A Southern Fried Christmas
by Ooshka
Summary: AH/OOC All Sookie Stackhouse wants is a nice Christmas day with her friends. Lunch on the deck, and an afternoon on the beach. Should be simple when you live in New Zealand, right? But things don't go according to plan and Sookie's Christmas is nothing like she expected. And who the hell invited the Australian guy, anyway? Sookie's Secret Santa story written for Cutiekins.


**A/N: This was the Secret Santa (well, not really so secret in my case, I guess) story I wrote for Cutiekins. I really hope she enjoyed it, and I hope that you do too, and that you have all enjoyed a wonderful Christmas.**

**Disclaimer:** **Not mine, I just changed the accents.**

Around this time of year, when the temperature rises and the pohutakawa bloom, everyone starts telling you what the one thing they really want for Christmas is. Usually what they want isn't just one thing, it's a whole bunch of stuff. Everything from a new barbecue to their mother in law mysteriously feeling the need to spend Christmas day in Fiji, and, usually, they'll finish up by adding 'And World peace. Of course.'

Well, all I wanted was a nice, normal, quiet Christmas. I didn't have a lot of family. In fact, I had pretty much none bar my brother Jason, but that was OK. I was going to have a nice Christmas day with my friends. It was going to be relaxing and happy and I was going to drink fancy wine on the deck and look at the sea.

That was all I wanted for Christmas. Really, it was. I'm sure if you looked on Santa's list and found my name that's what it would say. Sookie Stackhouse: Auckland, New Zealand – wants a really nice Christmas day.

Only Christmas was still two days' away and I was stuck in the office and not having a great time.

"WIP, WIP, WiP-ity WIP. It's WIP time!" Amelia sang brightly.

"Shut up and put your whips and chains away," Kennedy grumbled. She was looking decidedly pale and under the weather.

"It's not my fault they decided to have the Christmas party on a Tuesday night," Amelia complained. "Or that you decided to drink too much."

"I didn't drink _too_ much. I drank just enough. Last night was a pleasing blur. This morning though, some annoying little Christmas elf won't stop bloody singing. Do your earrings have to keep flashing?"

"Yes," Amelia replied, stroking one of her Christmas tree earrings. "They do. Stop being a Grinch…ooh, Tweet! Do you want to hear what they're saying about us now?"

Amelia seemed to have given up on Kennedy and was waiting for me to respond. I was kind of busy. Well, I was very busy. This was our last WIP, or work in progress meeting, before the Christmas break and I was desperately trying to pull together all the stuff we'd done on the big post-Christmas summer campaign before the people from the advertising agency arrived.

Amelia, however, worked more in social marketing. Somehow that meant she wanted to be constantly social.

"They say '_Had Southern Fried for lunch, spent afternoon in loo. Never again.'_ Oh." Amelia looked a bit downcast. "Well there's that stomach bug going around," she said in the end.

Sadly it wasn't the first time I'd heard stuff like that. I worked for Southern Fried Chicken, and yes, we were the lowest of the low. We ranked even below all those burger chains, and definitely below your corner family owned fish and chip shop. No, we dealt in fried chicken and everyone knew we sold buckets of fat to poor people who didn't know any better.

But I'll tell you a secret. I really, really loved my job. I loved creating the ideas, and getting a concept. I loved writing up the briefs to send to the agency. I loved it when the shiny new artwork came back from the printers. I loved that first time we saw one of our television commercials.

I just didn't say that out loud very often. Not when anyone else could hear, anyway.

And I definitely didn't love WIP day. Not this close to Christmas when I was racing to get it all done.

"Do you think he'll be there again this week?" Amelia asked. "The evil over-lord?"

"Oh, God. I hope not." I really did. He had a way of making you feel small and stupid and like everything you did was crap. Plus, it was patently clear he was not a fan of our fried chicken.

"I miss Cleo," Amelia said, and Kennedy and I nodded. We all missed Cleo. Cleo had been the last agency dictator, sorry, creative director, sent over from the head office of advertising agency LeClerc & Paul in Sydney to run their Auckland office and she'd been lovely. Well, she'd been happy to use her company credit card to shout us all boozy nights in flash wine bars under the guise of client relations.

I missed those days fondly.

"I don't think he's evil per se," Kennedy mused. "But, you know, he's Australian."

"He can't help being Australian," Amelia said. "And anyway, it's an Aussie agency. They're bound to send an Australian." It was a bit like saying that lion didn't mean to eat your arm off, he was a lion and we all tasted like chicken to him.

And then we saw the people from the agency walk through the office and, bugger it, he was there. Eric Northman was hard to miss given he was almost a head taller than most of the other people. Well, apart from Alcide Herveaux, who was here representing our media buying agency. He was bloody tall too.

Alcide glanced in our direction and smiled broadly.

"See, he's totally into you Sookie," Amelia hissed, as she returned Alcide's smile. "You so should have hooked up with him at the party last night."

"She didn't?" Kennedy asked. "But…but…she was all set to go over there and then…when did we do those shots? Was that before or after the…hang on, there was dancing, right? I think I was dancing. Were other people dancing?"

"Good one, Memento," Amelia said dryly. "Nice to see how much you can remember. Do you remember us putting you in a taxi?"

"Um…no," Kennedy confessed. "And I don't remember getting home, throwing up in the flowerbed, or curling up on the front lawn for a little sleep. I do remember Danny coming out and picking me up though, after he wondered why he heard a car and I didn't come in."

"Aw! See, that's true love for you," Amelia said. "Putting you to bed when you've vomited in the garden."

"Yep." Kennedy gave a rather self-satisfied smile. She and Danny had been married for two years now, after being together forever. At least, it seemed like forever. We were all a little jealous of Kennedy at times.

Not that I hadn't had relationships, of course. Some of mine lasted a lot longer than Amelia's. And I wasn't so desperate as to throw myself at Alcide Herveaux at the Christmas party just because he was _there_. And Amelia needed to back off.

I was just too busy to tell her to back off. She'd have to figure it out for herself and take my silence as a hint. _I just needed to gather up the thing…and the notes…and that email from the cola people…and…and…I know you're hovering over me, so just fuck off, Amelia._

Luckily, I didn't say it out loud.

"Oh good, you are listening," Pam said, as I looked up and she realised she finally had my attention. Shit, what did she want now? Pam was the head of the marketing department and therefore, our own evil overlord. Only she wasn't evil, she was just particular.

"Listen, Belinda isn't here today. Some bullshit excuse that's meant to cover for the fact she was as pissed as anything last night and no doubt hung over today. So can you print out the WIP stuff for everyone? How many copies do we need?" Pam looked thoughtful; at least, I hoped she did. I didn't have the answer to that question as I hadn't been paying attention to who was going to the meeting. "Um…I don't know. You can count heads. OK, see you in there."

Oh, poo. No, no, no. Why couldn't she ask Amelia? Why did I have to do it? Because I was the assistant, was why. Assistant Brand Activation Manager.

Fine! I'd print a bunch of paper no one really wanted anyway and end up being late to the meeting.

I pulled up the spreadsheet, hoping it had been updated by someone who wasn't me, and set it to print, taking a stab at the number of copies required. Meanwhile Amelia walked off singing "WIP, WIP, WIP-pity, WIP," again and Kennedy trudged after her, clutching her coffee cup like it was the one thing that was going to keep her upright. My God though, she could sure manage skyscraper heels for a still partially drunk woman. That was decidedly impressive.

Shit. I realised I didn't have time to be impressed by Kennedy's super-model abilities because I needed to get my stuff and all the WIP spreadsheet copies off the printer.

Except when I got there, Lafayette was there first. I thought the Digital team had their own printer. No, I was sure of it. Why the hell was Lafayette hanging about beside our printer?

He took a sheet off the printer, and examined it. I hoped the whirr of the printer next to him was all the stuff I wanted printed and not more of his. I waited, hoping he'd move. Instead he turned to me. "Does this logo look right?"

"Um…on the screen there?" I pointed to the print-out he was holding up, which was a mock-up of a page of the company website. Lafayette nodded.

"Right in what way?"

"Right in that Pam won't have a conniption because it's smaller than the soft drink logo next to it."

I considered that, while trying to manoeuvre past Lafayette to get to my own printing. "Um…I don't, I guess…I mean. It's our website, right?"

Lafayette gave me a look that suggested that wasn't the answer he'd wanted. But at least he left, and I could grab all the pages I needed and make my own way to the large meeting room on the east side of the building where everyone else had already gathered, and Pam was already talking. Oh, bugger it.

"Sookie. There you are. We've been waiting."

"Um, sorry." I shuffled around all the paper in my hands and then walked around the table handing out the WIP document. I noticed that the arrangement seemed to be agency people sitting on one side of the big meeting table, company people on the other.

Except that when I looked for a spare seat, there wasn't one on our side of the table. In fact there was only one spare seat in the whole room. And it was next to bloody Eric Northman the agency dictator himself. Bugger it.

There was nothing for it; I'd have to sit there. I pulled the chair out, which would have been a smoother move if it hadn't collided with Eric's leg as I yanked it. He glanced up and gave me an annoyed look but honestly, it wasn't my fault his bloody legs were everywhere

I managed to get myself into the chair, and the chair back into its space under the desk. Clancy, another agency creative, was on the other side of me and he wasn't any more pleased with my presence than Eric was. But it wasn't my fault that the room wasn't quite big enough for all of us, or that they'd decided to bring just about every person from their office to litter up ours.

I was just doing my job.

I half-listened to what Pam was saying, but I felt a little heavy in the head. I wasn't hung-over; I was just tired, and maybe dehydrated. I needed some water. I half-stood up, reached across the table for the big jug of water and one of the glasses that had been placed there, and, having attained my prize, sat myself back down in my chair, managing to brush Eric's arms with my bum as I did so.

God, did he have to take up all the space in the bloody room? There should be laws.

I gulped some of my water and hoped it would perk me up a bit. The room was very stuffy, what with the sun coming right in the window over by Amelia and Kennedy, and the number of people in it.

I looked at the WIP listing and tried to follow along with what was being discussed. Most of it wasn't news to me, and there wasn't much I could glean from it, anyway. This was just a chance for us and the agency to check that everyone was on the same page with all the work we had going on.

So far, so ho hum.

But then we got to the main campaign, the one we were going to run for summer. "So, what's happening?" Pam asked.

"Filming has finished," Kennedy confirmed. "So we'll get our first look at the completed TVC…tomorrow?" Felicia from the agency nodded. "And then it's a matter of getting that on-air, starting in the New Year. The time is booked?"

Everyone looked at Alcide. Alcide stopped smiling at me and checked his notes. "Um…" Arlene, our media booker, looked like she wanted to murder Alcide in his sleep. That was nothing new. Alcide was nice to look at, but not particularly good at his job.

"Oh yes," he said. "Kandace has taken care of that." Alcide smiled at me again. I took a big gulp of my water and put the glass down next to me. Hydration, that was what I needed right now.

"And then it's all the usual stuff," Kennedy said. "Print…getting it up on our website…I think it's all under control…."

But then, for the first time since the meeting had started, Eric spoke up. "You know, Pam, I've had a look at this and I have a few reservations."

"I beg your pardon?" Pam said icily, turning from Kennedy to Eric. Well, everyone was looking at Eric now, and it wasn't just because he was nice to look at too.

"The campaign's a little…uh, domestic, don't you think?"

"What exactly do you mean by domestic, Eric?" Pam's usually quite clipped English voice sounded even more staccato than usual.

"I mean, domestic. Like, homely."

"It's home-style fried chicken, Eric. It's meant to be homely."

Well this was entertaining. Except that Eric then brought his arm forward to help make his next point and whacked me in the shoulder. He didn't apologise.

I would have said something, but I had to make allowances for the fact he was Australian. Plus I was curious to see what he'd say next and I didn't want to interrupt him.

"It's meant to sell to people who are going to buy fried chicken, Pam. How many housewives buy fried chicken?"

Pam looked livid, and I wasn't sure what had made her more annoyed, Eric's use of the term housewife, or Eric's assertion that our campaign wasn't well-targeted. Boy, this was going to get good.

Pam's lips were now a thin line across her face. I wondered how she was going to manage to make any sound at all out of them.

"I'm not sure I'd apply the term housewife to today's working woman, Eric. Perhaps you've missed the point of our campaign." Pam gave him her biggest, sweetest smile. It usually had a pretty chilling effect on people.

Eric just shrugged.

"Which is a shame," Pam continued on. "Because, after all, your team were so deeply involved in creating it with us."

Eric clearly didn't like that idea, because he turned to glare at Clancy. It was just a bummer that I was sitting in between them, and I got the glare instead. Also, I think Clancy tried to shrug and he poked me in the other shoulder, but I couldn't turn to look because I was busy being glared at by Eric.

It really sucked being jammed around the table like this.

"Are you addressing any other demographics?" Eric asked Pam. "I think perhaps you might be missing out on the youth market."

"Well we have our partnership with the cola people," Pam said, sighing. "So there's the whole 'Win your Ultimate Summer getaway' promotion beginning soon, when we bring the frozen drinks in-store."

"That's the _Fairy_ Cola deal?" Eric asked, sounding very scathing about the whole thing. _Please don't diss Fairy Cola_, I thought. I really liked the Fairy Cola people. Dermot Brigant and Claude Crane were a lot of fun to hang out with and we'd had that lunch at the Mexican restaurant which did the passionfruit margaritas. "Why would anyone over the age of six want Fairy Cola?" Eric mused, aloud.

I took a big sip of my water and looked around the table. Everyone, from both sides, were sitting as still as statues, waiting to see what Pam said next.

"It's very Middle Earth," she said in the end.

"And fried chicken is…?"

"Quite popular with hobbits, I believe." Pam gave Eric a look that suggested she'd had the last word and he should shut up now.

Eric didn't shut up. Boy, he was just annoying. I idly wondered if that was an Australian thing, were they all annoying? Cleo hadn't been that annoying but then she had given me a bottle of Midori as a present when she was leaving. I suspected that she was re-gifting, and getting rid of the stuff she'd accumulated in her office, but it still counted in her favour.

I couldn't imagine Eric ever giving anyone, anything, other than the benefit of his years in the industry. _Blah, blah, blah. Shut up, Eric, so we can all get on with our lives._

_Please. Some of us have Christmas shopping to do._

I tuned back in. "All I'm saying," Eric said, with a lot of pointing. I moved my glass closer to me, so he wouldn't knock it over. "Is that you've got something that's going to appeal to the female consumer, but I think you've discounted the amount of men who eat fried chicken."

"And all I'm saying is that it's easy to sit there and criticise the campaign, now. It's been signed off. It's a done deal. I think we need to move on."

And move on we did, right onto a discussion on whether the little promo signs that sat on the counter were going to be printed and ready to get to the stores by New Year's, and whether they already had the signage for Christmas day, the stuff that promoted the fact the stores were open from midday onwards.

I vaguely paid attention to all of it. I'm pretty sure I heard Eric tsk in disapproval when the fact of the Christmas day opening was mentioned. Fine, so he didn't want to eat fried chicken on Christmas day. Well, I'm sure it would be useful to some people, as a back-up.

Or maybe people who don't want to cook a big meal on Christmas day would buy some of our chicken. It gets very hot standing around in a kitchen, after all. It was really hot in this meeting room. The sun was just beaming in. Straight at me.

I was a little tired. And I probably just closed my eyes for a moment. I don't actually think I really missed anything important. I just…well, it was only a second.

But then all of a sudden I realised that I was dozing, and that was not a good look. Not with all of my team lined up on the other side of the table probably staring at me. So I jerked myself awake.

I'm pretty sure that no one would have noticed anything if I hadn't managed to give the glass of water just the tiniest little knock as I sat back up.

I tried to grab it, but my reactions weren't that fast. Personally, I blame Eric and the fact that he was taking up a lot of the space that should have, by rights, been mine and therefore my arm got jammed behind his.

And when the water glass toppled over and water dribbled onto Eric's leg, he probably got his just desserts.

"Fuck!" he yelled, and he tried to stand up and get away from the dripping water, only we still had the problem where his chair leg was blocked by my chair leg and he couldn't push his chair away from the table. "Fucking move," he said, and I was trying to, but my chair was also caught up with the one Clancy was sitting on and I didn't think he was moving any time soon.

Eric managed to push his chair back, taking me with it whether I wanted to go or not. "Fucking hell," he muttered, looking down at the wet stain on his jeans.

Well, at least it had got him on the thigh and not the…

Yeah, OK. Well I wasn't going to look _there_, was I?

"I'll, um…" I wasn't really sure what to do. Eric was muttering under his breath, and I was pretty much certain that it was all about what he thought of me in that moment. Pam was giving me a look that said she really thought I needed to do something about the problem.

I stood up, but then had difficulty getting past my chair and Eric. I'm almost completely certain I managed to rub the entire front of my body against him in the process. He looked down and noticed my boobs were now pushed up against him, and then he tried to fix it by sitting back down his chair. Unfortunately we were so tightly squeezed together that Eric moving backwards meant I went with him, and I was half-way to lying in his lap, before I managed to grab the arm of my chair and right myself. It was not my best look at all, but I didn't have a lot of time to worry about it right then.

I ran to our little kitchen area and grabbed some of the paper towels off the roll, and then I ran back to the meeting room. Eric was still sitting down and I had to try to wiggle myself back into my seat and then, when I offered him the paper towels, he grabbed them without saying thanks, or even really looking at me.

I mopped up the water that was still on the table. There wasn't much I could do about Eric's sodden notebook. I wondered about offering him my less-soggy copy of the WIP document. I decided against it. And then I looked across at Amelia who was smirking at me. Great. I'd entertained everyone at least.

Well everyone except for Eric. I sighed. I hoped to God I never had to be in a meeting room with him again. What was I going to do if I ever had to send a brief to the agency and he was involved?

Oh, who was I kidding? Eric was probably going to go back to Sydney before we were more than two months into the New Year.

I bet he wouldn't give me a bottle of Midori like Cleo had either. I didn't actually drink Midori. I didn't even really like Midori. But the thought had been nice.

Eric's thoughts about me probably weren't fit to print.

Pam managed to wind the meeting up, and then we had the awkward shuffling around of chairs again. I sat meekly and waited for Eric to move his chair and get up, and then, by the time I'd been jostled around by Clancy doing the same thing, Eric had left the meeting room.

Well I would have apologised to him, but he clearly didn't want to hear it. That was kind of rude really.

Australians. You can't take them anywhere.

Because I'd lingered waiting for Eric and then Clancy to leave their seats, Alcide managed to walk around the table and corner me before I could leave. "Hey," he said. "I didn't see you leave last night."

"No. Well. I mean…work today, and all of that!" I smiled brightly.

"I was hoping we might have been able to spend some time together." Alcide gave me a winning smile. Yeah, I guess that was code for 'have sex in the disabled toilets'.

Thank God I'd turned down the cognac Amelia had been offering around.

I shrugged. "There's always next year..."

Alcide was staring at me. Well, at my chest. I'll be the first to admit that it's a drawcard, but even so, he was being very, very blatant about it.

"That's a lovely shirt," he murmured.

It was a dress, for a start. Although I guess it didn't really matter. It was pretty clear this was code too. This time for 'wow, you have huge boobs and I can't stop staring at them'.

And then Arlene's voice cut in. "Alcide! Have you looked at that booking schedule you sent through? It doesn't add up! The formula's not been updated. And why on earth are you trying to charge us more for the radio spots now…"

I turned and left them to it. Perhaps there wouldn't be a next year. Perhaps this would be the month when Arlene finally did away with Alcide and we never heard from him again.

Oh, bugger. Long Tooth agency hadn't sent out their Christmas gifts yet. I hope Arlene waited until they arrived.

I wasn't in much of a hurry to get back to my desk and face Kennedy and Amelia who were no doubt going to be laughing up a storm about what had happened. I'm sure it was hi-freaking-larious if it had happened to someone else.

But I was mortified. Nodding off in a meeting is one thing, dousing the creative director in water and then managing to give him some kind of weird, impromptu lap-dance was something else entirely.

Kennedy will be thrilled, I thought. No one's going to care about the fact she was dancing with a waiter last night, _now_.

So I decided to take the long way back to my desk, and I walked down the back corridor, past the stationery room, past the filing cabinets where we kept copies of everything we'd produced, past the printer and past Pam's office…

Nope, not going past Pam's office because Pam was outside it, talking to Eric. Bugger!

I ducked into the little alcove where the printer was placed and hoped they hadn't seen me. I listened, and I could just make out what Pam was saying. "You know, you might be right." Good, they weren't talking about me.

"I know I'm right. You've missed out on the youth market, the teenagers who eat shit for breakfast, lunch and dinner and are going to be wasting the summer spending their parent's money on the kind of shit you're selling."

"Gee, thanks for the product endorsement," Pam said dryly. "Although you realise that when we briefed the agency, they were perfectly happy to run with this one. I didn't hear Cleo playing devil's advocate."

"Cleo's gone."

"Yes. Eventually you all go." Pam sighed. "Before that it was Gervaise, and Arla Yvonne. You're the last man standing Eric, and I'm not sure you really want to be here."

There was a pause and then Eric said. "I just go where they send me."

"Well, of course you do. _Now_." I wondered what Pam meant by that.

"It's not so bad."

"Well, I guess we can live with it. Trouble is that AB was bowled over by it when he saw it. And don't get me started on his infatuation with the Fairy Cola people."

"I wasn't…" Eric paused. "Yes. The campaign. Well, Bellefleur's a fucking idiot at times."

"Do you talk about all your clients like this?" Pam sounded almost flirty when she asked that.

"Only the ones I care enough about to let them really fuck me off." Oh, no.

Pam laughed. Euw. _Don't flirt with him, Pam. He's the enemy! Enemy!_

"At least you got to enjoy Sookie this morning."

"I'm not sure I'd use the term enjoy, Pam. More like endure." OK, well if he was going to be a grumpy old knob-head, he could go back to the flirting.

"Anyway, I must get on," Pam said, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then she said "I'll see you…yes?" in a completely different tone of voice. Almost like she cared about him.

"I guess." Yep, they were definitely having it off. So not professional. Way to lead by example, Pam.

They said some more goodbyes and I hoped that Eric would go straight out the door of the office, but he didn't, of course. He walked back past where I was standing, looking very hard at the printer, as though at any moment it was going to print out something I needed really, really urgently.

I wondered if he'd say anything to me, but he didn't. So I turned around, thinking he'd gone past. He hadn't. He was just standing there, looking at me.

And then he walked off.

Boy, Pam sure picked weird men. Maybe because she was English he seemed exotic, being Australian? But I really thought she could do better.

In the same way I could do better than Alcide. He was nice, he was attractive, he was…oh, bugger. He was around the corner by the door waiting for me.

"You ran off before," he said.

"Um…work. I have, um…work…" I waved my hand around. Well, I _did_ work here, after all. I was bound to have something to do. I was very important to the smooth running of the place.

And, unlike some people standing right here with me, at least I could bloody work an Excel spreadsheet.

Yep, I must have been hammered the previous night to contemplate hooking up with Alcide.

"Gotta go!" I said, and I almost ran back to my desk, which was stupid, because what was waiting for me there was even worse.

"I know you didn't want Alcide," Amelia chided. "But throwing yourself at Eric is a little much." She waggled her finger at me and grinned. "Especially when you literally threw yourself at him."

"Oh, ha fucking ha, Amelia." I sank down into my seat and unlocked my computer. "You could tell it was an accident."

"I'm just bloody glad it wasn't me who nodded off. My God that was boring." Kennedy put her arms on her desk and leaned her face down on them. She only lasted a couple of seconds in that position before she popped back up again. "No, that's worse. I feel sick then."

"Speaking of sick-making," I said. "Do you guys know Pam and Eric are hooking up?" Amelia's head whipped around to face me across the desk, her mouth in a round 'O' of surprise.

Crap. I'd known as soon as the words were out of my mouth that I shouldn't say it…but I wanted the focus to be off me.

And now I was gossiping about my boss in the office.

I felt really low.

I should have just let Amelia and Kennedy keep laughing at me.

I briefly wondered whether Amelia's shock was because she had a thing for Eric. She was pretty hopeless at getting crushes on random people. And then wearing them down until they gave in. I didn't always agree with her choices, but I had to admire her confidence.

Kennedy was going a weird shade of greeny-white now. Bugger it. I should have just waited and not said anything. She ran out of the room and, once again, I marvelled at how well she was managing those heels.

Amelia hadn't, I don't think, even noticed Kennedy's mad dash. She was still looking at me. Oh, double-crap. I should have kept my big mouth shut.

"No…" Amelia said, staring into the distance. Then she shook herself slightly. "I mean…how'd you get to that conclusion?"

"Oh, um. It was just I heard them. Talking."

"Oh! Well of course they _talk_," Amelia said, like I was someone from the special class. "They knew each other in London."

"Oh, OK," I said, when, in hindsight, what I should have asked was 'how do you know?'

Since Pam had arrived about six months earlier, we'd slowly been getting to know her, and I figured Amelia was just further ahead in that process than me. All I really knew about Pam was that she'd come to New Zealand to work for a large bank, but they'd restructured and she ended up without a role, which is how she'd come to work here. We all thought she was awesome, but as for her personal life, well, we knew little.

Had known little. Now I pretty much suspected her of carrying out an illicit affair with the creative director of our agency, which was a little close for comfort. But what did I know?

Maybe Amelia was right.

I put it out of my mind and moved on. I had more exciting things to deal with anyway, like a row over the flyers we were dropping into letterboxes after Christmas and whether they had the right artwork, and Kennedy's sudden and violent reaction to the sushi Amelia brought back to the office to eat. Kennedy was not having a good day at all.

My day got better. I think most people forgot about the incident with Eric. Well Lafayette came over to see Amelia about something and asked me if I'd enjoyed my tango in the meeting room, but everyone else forgot. Arlene was still spitting tacks about Alcide's incompetence, Kennedy was mostly trying not to throw up, Holly was trying to convince a store manager in Papakura that there wasn't a printing error on the Christmas hours poster, and 12pm was actually the same as midday, and Danielle was…oh, well she was on the phone to her mother again, trying to organise childcare.

So pretty much normal then.

Except for Amelia, who was up to something. "Are you coming?" I asked, when it was time to go home.

"Nope, gonna stay here for a bit. Update some stuff on Facebook."

"The work one, or your personal one?"

Amelia shrugged. "Bit of both….oh! Hey, have you seen the photos Quinn posted? Aw, look at that? She's just adorable. Although I hate it when they stick those stretchy headbands on babies. Your baby is bald, get over it."

Amelia turned the screen around before I could protest. Yep, there on my ex-boyfriend's Facebook page were the photos I didn't really want to see. The ones that showed him, and his gorgeous Dutch girlfriend and his new baby daughter, all in front of the Christmas tree in their little flat in London.

So this was my ex-boyfriend who hadn't wanted to go overseas because he was perfectly happy in New Zealand.

And I'd said I was too. So I'd stayed here, with Quinn, while all around me friends were doing their big OE trips. And then we broke up and he developed the travel bug.

Nice for him, really.

"She's very…sweet. OK, well, I'm off to the bus then." I picked up my bag and left the office and walked out of our building and down Albert St towards the bus stop. I hated the bus, really hated it, and maybe that was partially why I'd hoped Amelia was leaving now. Getting a lift with her was much more preferable than sharing my personal space with a stranger. And there had to be some perks to having Amelia as a flatmate, didn't there?

But there wasn't anything for it today, I'd just have to lump it.

The bus was hot, and crowded, and full of people carting handfuls of plastic carrier bags which just reminded me that I still needed to finish my Christmas shopping. I was glad that I had a seat and didn't have to stand as we drove over the Harbour Bridge, and really glad when I finally got to the bus station at Constellation Drive.

My car, having sat in the sun all day, was like an oven. A small, yellow, oven. I opened the door and got in; starting the engine in the hope the air conditioning might start up before I had to close the door. It didn't.

I thought about driving to a mall and doing the shopping I needed to do, but I was tired and drained and just simply couldn't face trying to find a car park at the Albany mall, so I simply drove down Constellation Drive, along East Coast Road, and down Browns Bay Road, heading for home.

I pulled into the driveway behind Sam's car. Lucky bastard he was, he worked on this side of the bridge, at an insurance call centre in Smale's Farm. Once upon a time I'd worked there too, and that was how I'd met Sam. But I'd moved on to bigger things, and that meant working in the city.

I locked my car and walked inside the house, trudging up the stairs to the front door. I'd lived in this house most of my life now, having inherited it from my parents. It wasn't much, just a typical 1970's model, with a basement downstairs, three bedrooms and, annoyingly, one bathroom, with a separate toilet. But I loved it, and I loved the view, and I loved living here.

Sometimes it would be nice not to have flatmates though.

"I'm on the deck!" Sam yelled out, as I entered the kitchen and found the room hot and stuffy. Would it have killed him to open a window before he opened a beer?

Maybe that was a little unkind. After all, Sam was pretty good as far as flatmates went. Certainly he didn't hog the bathroom as much as Amelia did. She was only living here because, I suspected, she wasn't really ready to make the break into the big, wide world by herself and living with me was easier.

OK, that might have been mean too. I put my slightly bitchy frame of mind down to being tired and over everything. Except Christmas. I was still hoping for a good Christmas day.

"How was work?" I asked Sam, as I walked out onto the deck.

"Same as ever," he said, shrugging and taking another sip of the beer he was holding. "There was food, though. Maxine made a Christmas cake."

"Any reason for that?"

"Well, it was a competition. There were three. I had to judge them in a blind taste test. It was, um, actually quite hard. I'm not sure I picked the right one." He frowned. "Charlsie seemed a bit grumpy later on."

"I'm sure they'll still love you dearly." Sam blushed a little at that. He was the team leader and his team was all female. Most of them were older than Sam and seemed to look on him as a substitute for their own sons. He was kind of embarrassed by the attention, but at the same time, he was still eating their Christmas cakes, and chocolate chip biscuits, and banana loafs and everything else they produced for his approval.

"At least no one fell asleep during work hours," Sam said, and for a moment I merely nodded along thinking that well yes, those ladies were getting on a bit and goodness knows what a heavy morning tea would do to them. Then I realised.

"Did Amelia text you about what had happened?"

"Yep." Sam grinned, and I gave him my grumpiest look, but it did nothing.

"I wasn't really asleep…I just, you know…"

"Threw a glass of water over some unsuspecting guy."

"Threw a glass of water over a random Australian I had to sit next to because they didn't save me a seat!" Yeah, that sounded kind of bad, didn't it? Sam gave me the 'are you 12?' look, and I didn't bother responding.

It had been bad enough when it had happened.

"They'll forget about it over Christmas," Sam said, clearly feeling a bit sorry for me. That was nice of him. "Oh, and speaking of Christmas, you know Jannalynn's bringing the ham, eh?"

Um, what?

"She can get a discount from work," Sam said proudly, like working at Pak' N Save was a thing you should be proud of. It was a discount supermarket with an ugly uniform. How could you be proud of that?

"Oh. OK." I'd ordered a ham from the butcher. I'd have to cancel that. Still, I supposed I shouldn't be ungrateful if Jannalynn was going to provide it, seeing as she'd clearly invited herself to Christmas lunch.

It wasn't that we'd said Sam couldn't bring his girlfriend. It was just that it was going to make it a bit uneven, when Amelia and I didn't have partners.

And maybe a tiny bit because I just didn't like the woman. But you couldn't have everything. And free ham was free ham.

"So she'll let us know how much we owe her," Sam finished.

"Fine," I sighed, and then I turned and walked back into the house and into my bedroom, where I shut the door and kicked off my shoes. It was OK. Christmas was still going to be great. We were having a nice lunch, just the three…just the four of us. Lunch at home, beach in the afternoon. It was simple, it was relaxing, and it was going to be just what I wanted.

When Amelia finally got home, I got more bad news. "I invited someone else for Christmas day!" she said, as she walked in carrying a bunch of expensive looking shopping bags. "I mean, we didn't have a lot of people coming, so I thought, what's one more?"

"Jannalynn's coming," I said, kind of glumly. Sam had gone out to take Jannalynn Christmas shopping, so I didn't have to worry about offending him.

"Well, exactly," Amelia said brightly. "The more the merrier at Christmas, which is why I said to Pam she should drop by…"

"Pam?" Amelia nodded. "Our Pam, like, our _boss_ Pam?" Amelia nodded again.

"She doesn't really have anyone," she explained. "You know, this is her first Christmas in New Zealand and it's all weird and upside down for her, and she was saying how she missed the cold, and how it won't be the same without turkey, so I said come to us…"

I interrupted Amelia again. "But we're not having turkey."

"Oh. Yeah, I thought we could." I wondered if Amelia thought she could just snap her fingers and a turkey would appear.

"It's two days until Christmas. Where are we going to get a turkey from?"

"I spoke to Dad. He got a spare one from that deli, is it Zarbo's? OK, well anyway, I said to Pam just come round, it'll be nice. So she is."

I stared at Amelia. Now, not only was I going to have to entertain my boss on Christmas day, but we had to cook a turkey too. Things were just getting out of hand.

I took a deep breath. When lunch was over, when the intruders had gone home, then we could still go to the beach. Just me and Amelia and Sam. Or maybe just sit on the deck; look at the view of the ocean.

Such as it was. OK, so you had to stand at the very edge of the deck, get up on your toes and then lean out over the railing and look between some trees that hadn't been quite as big as they were now when I was little and Dad had first lifted me up to show me that we could see the sea from our house. But it was there. You could see it.

If you tried hard enough.

"Well, I guess it's done now. So that's turkey, and Jannalynn's bringing a ham, and I'm getting the rack of lamb…so I think we're set."

"Yep, all set!" Amelia said happily, and she started to walk out of the living room into the hallway, but then she stopped and turned. "And Pam's not having it off with Eric, by the way." And then she walked off, with a decided bounce in her step.

Great, so Amelia had suddenly decided to schmooze the boss right on Christmas. I tried to tell myself it would still be a good day, despite Pam's presence. I think I succeeded. I was probably a bit premature with that one.

The last day of work for the year should have been relaxing, but it wasn't. It was hectic, and the fact I needed to get hold of Felicia at the agency, and she seemed to be mysteriously missing, was making it worse. I couldn't get Clancy either, or Indira or even Thalia. Long, boozy lunch would be my guess.

I vaguely wondered if Eric was with them, or if he'd keep out of that kind of thing. After all, he was probably going back to Sydney soon. Pam had pretty much said as much outright. They might not be having an affair, but she seemed to be pretty tight with him.

Still, it didn't solve my problem that no one was answering my calls and I needed to know what was going on with my brief about the sponsorship for the ocean swim before everyone really did bugger off for Christmas.

There was nothing for it; I'd have to ring Eric.

Before I could dial out on my phone, it rang. I hoped it was Felicia returning my call. It wasn't.

"Hey, Sis," Jason's voice said when I answered.

"Oh, hello." I wondered if I needed to be worried, I couldn't remember the last time Jason had phoned me at work. Or at all.

"Yeah, so...how's it going?"

"Um...OK."

"So, Christmas tomorrow? You all sorted?"

Surely Jason had not picked the worst time in the world to phone me and ask if I had got Christmas lunch sorted. There had to be more to it.

Oh. Oh no. No, Jason. Just no.

"So, uh…" he continued, when I didn't respond. "You're um, having lunch at the house?"

"Yeah." I could have lied, but I would have felt bad about it.

I should have put Amelia on the phone and let her lie to him. That was my first mistake.

"Just you and, um…your boyfriend?"

"I don't…just me and Amelia and Sam. And Sam's girlfriend. And, uh…a woman from work."

"Oh, so you're not really doing anything special then?"

"No." Trust Jason to get it all wrong. "It'll be special, but it'll be relaxed too. You know we're just doing casual lunch and then picnic dinner on the beach…making the most of having the day off, that sort of thing."

"So it'd be OK if I came, then," Jason said. He didn't really ask. I didn't really know what to say. I should say yes, at least, the little voice in my head was telling me I should.

But I didn't want to. I wanted it to just be me and Sam and Amelia. And Jannalynn. And, oh bum, I'd forgotten about Pam. And Pam.

Oh, fuck it. Jason might as well come. "Yeah…OK. I mean, aren't you going to see Michele's family?"

"Yeah, not fuckin' likely, eh? I said I didn't want a big fuss, and she just kept saying we had to go, and there's like, five hundred people in her family." I suspected Jason might be exaggerating, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. "So I don't want to sit in a fuckin' stuffy living room while we unwrap pressies from everyone Michele's ever met, and they're all fuckin' car cleaning kits, or fuckin' barbecue tools, and I'm never allowed to touch the fuckin' barbecue at home, Michele won't let me. I don't clean it properly, she reckons. But I still have to go to her folks, and those kids of her sister's get hyper on chocolates and fuckin' act like animals, and then we have to eat a huge lunch and just sit there. And fuckin' chat. I don't want to chat. I want to sit at home and relax. Chatting isn't relaxing. So I told her, that this year I was fuckin' going to have Christmas day with my rellies for a change, and she tried to say I didn't have any, but I've got you. She reckoned you'd be busy, but ha fuckin' ha Michele."

OK, so I was getting stuck with Jason so he could prove a point to his partner Michele. Great. It wasn't so much ha fucking ha, as thanks for bloody nothing. I didn't want to have to entertain Jason.

He broke my presents. And he ate all the best biscuits out of the sampler box. And he hogged the paddling pool and splashed me every time I tried to get in it. And he deliberately tried to hit me in the face when we were playing swing-ball.

OK, so maybe that was the stuff that happened when we were little, but it still counted, right? It still meant I didn't have to put him with now he was an adult, and just wanted to moan that everyone was ruining his Christmas by trying to enjoy themselves?

Bugger it. He knew where I lived. He'd grown up there, too.

"Yeah, well. Just come round then. In the morning. I think we're getting a bloody great big turkey now, courtesy of Amelia's dad. You might as well come and help us eat it."

"Choice! Alrighty, then. I'll see you in the morning. Now go and do some bloody work, you slack-arse!" Jason chuckled to himself.

"Yeah. See ya." Jason hung up and I was left with a sinking feeling. And it looked, from my messages, as though Felicia hadn't called me back while I'd been on the phone. I rang her one more time, and still couldn't get her, so there was nothing for it.

I looked up Eric's phone number and, while trying to ignore Amelia singing along to the Christmas songs currently playing on the stereo near our desks, and I dialled the number, waiting for it to go to message too. It seemed to ring for a long time. And I did really like _Last Christmas_.

Probably singing along to it was a bad idea though, but Amelia was making funny faces and singing to me, and it seemed Grinch-like not to join in. I probably should have remembered I was currently waiting for someone to answer the phone but, honestly, in my defence, I really did expect it to go to message.

It took a moment to really register the voice on the other end of the line, and that it was talking to me. "Speak!" said the voice and I wondered how long I'd been ignoring Eric.

Oops.

Oh, well. It was Christmas.

"Oh. Hi. Um, it's Sookie… Stackhouse. From Southern Fried Chick…"

Eric cut me off. "Yes?"

"Oh, um. I tried to get hold of Felicia." I paused briefly, but there wasn't a response from Eric so I carried on. "I need to talk to Felicia about the radio spots we're running after Christmas, and, um…she's not returning her phone calls."

"Try Clancy."

"No, well, see, I did. But he's not answering either. Have they gone out somewhere?"

"What? How the hell do I know?"

"Aren't you there? In the office?"

"No. I'm…no. So I don't know. Sorry." With that Eric hung up me. He was so rude! He just made me mad. I didn't even want to sing with Amelia anymore.

Why was everyone determined to ruin my Christmas cheer?

"I don't like Eric," I muttered.

"Who?" Amelia asked, over the music.

"Eric! He's just a big pain in the bum. I just feel sorry for Felicia having to work for him, I really do. I mean, it can't be any fun." Amelia nodded along and I warmed to my subject and let fly. "I have yet to see any proof that he's this great hot-shot creative talent, I mean he hasn't really done anything since he's arrived here, has he? Apart from tell us what we had done was crappy, and Pam was right about that, it was _his_ team that pushed us in that direction. It's really not our fault if his creative team aren't up to par, is it? Is it?"

Amelia had stopped nodding in agreement and was now doing this weird head tipping thing. She looked like some kind of demented toy.

"I just can't believe he was that rude. We're the _clients_!" I said. Loudly. I said it really, really loudly, but Holly had wandered over to change the song on the iPod that was plugged in and all of a sudden the room had gotten a lot quieter. So Eric probably heard me, from where he was standing. Behind me. He was behind me.

Because he wasn't in his office, he was in ours.

We just couldn't get rid of him, could we?

"Well, it's true!" I said to Amelia, fairly quietly, in an effort to cover up my embarrassment.

Amelia just raised her eyebrows and turned back to her computer monitor. I was about to do the same when a piece of paper appeared in my view. "Felicia said you needed this. I said I'd deliver it."

"Oh, um. Yeah." It was the script of the radio ad that I'd wanted to check. "Um, thank-you…" I turned to look up at him, but he'd already walked off. In the direction of Pam's office, probably so he could tell her that I'd insulted him and his agency and they thought I was crap. Joy. Because I so wanted to have my boss tell me all that tomorrow, when she came to my house for Christmas day.

"You just had to invite Pam, didn't you?" I muttered to Amelia.

"What? Oh, it'll be fine, Sookie. You worry too much. Honestly, you need to just go with the flow a bit more. That's what stopped you getting Alcide. And he was totally hot for you."

I wasn't entirely sure how we'd gone from Amelia's desire to invite random people who could fire us home, to the fact I hadn't slept with Alcide. I hadn't really wanted to sleep with Alcide. He was nice enough.

But he was just not what I wanted.

What I wanted, what I still wanted, was a really nice Christmas. And I would get it, come hell or high water. By God I was going to enjoy my Christmas day if it killed me.

I did not enjoy the afternoon of Christmas Eve, but that, thankfully, didn't have anything to do with what I may or may not have said while Eric Northman was skulking around spying on us. No, this had more to do with the fact that Westfield Albany was packed, there was no parking, and, when I finally got a space, I had to do the food shopping for the next day because, somehow, that was the straw I'd drawn. Amelia was…I didn't know. Organising the decorations, and I think the booze. Plus the turkey, of course. Sam was getting the barbecue set up.

Yeah, I know. I got the shit job. In my enthusiasm for our plans I maybe hadn't realise this when we'd discussed it over a bottle of wine in November. Now, on December the twenty-fourth, it was very, very apparent.

But I did it. I got the shopping and nearly killed three people in the queue for the check-outs when they insisted on ramming me with their shopping trolleys, and I winced when I saw the cost being added to my credit card.

But it was Christmas, so I'd wear it and scrimp in February to pay it back.

And then I pushed it all the way out to my car, drove home and tried to find space for it in the kitchen. Amelia was in the bathroom, cleaning the grout around the tiles with an old toothbrush and singing to herself. One of Amelia's few redeeming features as a flatmate was that she liked to clean, and she was good at it. It made up for a lot of other things she did.

"Hey!" she said, brightly. "You all set?"

"Yep, just one more thing to do." I walked to the linen cupboard and pulled out the Christmas tablecloth. It had originally been my Gran's, and we'd always used it at Christmas. Just the sight of it put me a good mood, I loved the little tiny silver Christmas trees and bells embroidered on the tablecloth, I always had. All of a sudden it sunk in that it really was Christmas tomorrow. I felt a tiny bubble of excitement in my stomach that very quickly deflated when I got to the dining room table.

Oh.

Amelia had already set it. It had a beautiful red and gold runner, with a huge centrepiece of pohutakawa and flax leaves, arranged into loops. There were some red candles in nice crystal holders and shiny gold Christmas crackers lined up next to each place mat.

So, we weren't using my tablecloth then?

Amelia came in, still pulling off her rubber gloves. "D'you like it?" she asked.

"Um…yeah, it's very festive."

"Yeah, well Pam said how it doesn't feel very Christmassy to her, with it being summer and everything, so I thought we'd have a traditional look to it all, you know, make it a bit special. But it's still Kiwi, 'cos I used the pohutakawa, and the flax. I really like it, do you?" Amelia looked at me expectantly.

I looked down at the tablecloth at my hands and sighed. "I do like it. You can tell you put a lot of work into it, it looks great." I forced myself to turn my head and smile at Amelia, and she beamed back at me.

"Well, I want to make it extra special. For Pam," she said, and then she shrugged. "Gotta get back to it, I'm going to give the skirting boards a wipe-around next. You can vacuum."

"OK." See I went with the flow? I didn't know what Amelia was on about, I was very laid-back.

And slightly miffed about my tablecloth, but I wasn't letting it show, was I?

By Christmas morning I'd forgotten all about it anyway. Well, no. I hadn't _completely_ forgotten about it, but I was busy with other things. I was supposed to be busy with opening presents and having a nice glass of bubbly with my flatmates, but, instead, I was busy waiting for the bathroom.

Of course, given that the lock on the door was bit dodgy, I could have busted in. But I wasn't that sort of person. And we had an unwritten rule, that when someone was in there, we respected it. Even if that person was an intruder.

"Is she not out yet?" Amelia asked, passing me in the hall. Yeah, she'd got up early and was fully dressed and made up. I was still wearing my pyjamas and looked like possums had nested in my hair overnight.

"No!" I sighed. "And, you know, it's nice that someone who doesn't live here is hogging all the hot water." At that moment, of course, Sam popped his head out of his room. I'm pretty sure he heard me but, honestly, I didn't care.

I was pretty pissed off with Jannalynn.

Sam's face told me that he knew that, he managed to look pissed off with me and slightly apologetic all at the same time. And then Jannalynn opened the door of the bathroom a crack. "Sam? If you want you can come in, now."

Sam hesitated, and his eyes flicked from me to the door. "Uh, I think Sookie's next…" he said, not sounding really sure of that fact, and definitely not making eye contact with me.

"Yeah, but I'm still getting ready," Jannalynn called out. "So it's fine if you come in, but not _her_." I didn't know whether Jannalynn didn't know I was standing there, or whether she just didn't care. The latter, probably.

"Um...," Sam looked torn. "Yeah, OK," he said, stepping towards the bathroom door. "I'll be really quick," he assured me.

Yeah, right. Fat chance of that. They were probably going to do all sorts of unspeakable things to each other in there.

I bet Amelia was really glad she'd spent all that time cleaning the bathroom now. We'd have to disinfect it after Sam and Jannalynn…euw! Yeah, didn't bear thinking about.

Now, it wasn't that I was jealous of Jannalynn. I mean, it's perfectly OK to not like some random girl and yet still not want to steal her boyfriend, even if you knew the guy first. And even if he'd been your friend for years. And even if you worked together in a call centre and there was that one party where everyone was a little drunk and you kissed and you did think 'hey, maybe this is a good idea and maybe this could work out and who knew Sam was such a good kisser and I wonder what'll happen on Monday?'

And when Monday comes and he acts like it never happened, and he doesn't mention it until Wednesday when he laughs it off, then it still doesn't mean you're pining for him four years later does it?

No, it doesn't.

So Sam and I were good. Mostly, we were good. Jannalynn and I were a whole other story.

I took a deep breath. I could wait a bit longer for a shower, couldn't I?

"I've put the turkey in," Amelia said. "But I don't know how we'll fit the roast veges you did in there now." She shrugged and walked off.

Deep breath. Just keep breathing, I reminded myself. And then I went to make a coffee and check the status of the oven.

Sure enough, it was pretty stuffed with Amelia's turkey in there. "I guess we'll have to um…shove them around the sides," I muttered, while Amelia ignored me. She was putting the finishing touches on her pavlova, and it was sporting a complicated design of strawberry halves, raspberries and blueberries now. "What do you think?" she asked,

"Yeah, looks good."

"I hope Pam likes it. I wanted her to get the real Kiwi experience, you know?"

"So…why the turkey then?"

"Well, mixed with what she's used to. I think she'll love it." Amelia gave a happy little sigh. It was all a bit weird this sudden obsession with Pam. I'd never pegged Amelia as being particularly career-focussed. Sure, she liked her job and she was reasonably good at it, but she'd always given off the air of someone who was kind of biding time until she married and became one of those women who were far too busy to hold down a job.

But this, this whole 'impress the boss at Christmas' routine, this was new.

I was going to ask Amelia about it, but then there was a knock at the door. Oh, bugger it. And I wasn't even dressed yet.

"Pam can't be here this early!" Amelia exclaimed, sounding slightly panicked.

"No, that'll be Jason," I said, walking off to the door and opening it.

"Merry Christmas," Jason, said and he went to hug me, but then he stopped. "Jesus, Sookie. You just get out of bed?"

"No, I'm stuck in a never-ending queue for the bathroom. Merry bloody Christmas to you, too."

"Ha! Now you know what it was like when you turned 16."

"Oh, it bloody was not like this," I said, moving out of the way so Jason could come in without hitting me in the leg with the box of beer he was carrying. "It was totally different."

"Yeah. Nah, it was just like that. Here you go." He shoved a small, wrapped present into my hand.

"Oh, we haven't got to the present opening bit yet…" I said, just as I heard Jannalynn call out "Pressie time!" excitedly. No, because I wanted to have my shower first, so I wasn't the one all dishevelled and yucky.

But it was too late. When Jason and I got to the living room, everyone else had gathered around the tree. Sam was handing out the presents and Amelia had poured some bubbly. Great. I hope no one took any photos. There was a flash and I turned to see Jannalynn holding up her phone and smirking at me.

Oh my God. It was so wrong to want to murder someone on Christmas Day, but I swear, she was the most horrible person I knew at that moment.

Well, it was her and Eric. Maybe it was a tie. Thank God he wasn't here, though.

I endured the present opening. It might not have been so bad if I hadn't been worried about my personal hygiene. I tried not to take the fact that Jason and Sam both bought me shower gel (Sam's slightly nicer, but the card signed by Jannalynn as well) as a sign that they thought I needed to shower more.

Because it wasn't like I hadn't tried to have one this morning.

Still, the presents I'd picked for people seemed well received. Jason said he liked his giftcard from Bunnings. I had no idea what to get my brother, so better he go and buy himself something blokey. Or possibly Michele wanted new outdoor furniture or something, and he could put it toward that.

Amelia had bought me some rather lovely silver earrings that were little tiny tuis and must have cost a bomb because they had a designer's name all over them. I'd bought her a voucher for a facial and massage, and some really cute measuring cups that were like little Russian dolls. She seemed appreciative, and I tried not to care that she'd clearly spent more money than I had on her.

Well, her life was subsidised. Mine wasn't.

Sam said he liked his wine rack. He wasn't a huge wine drinker, but I couldn't think what else to get him. And it was lovely, made out of old recycled rimu. Jannalynn looked a bit sour that I had nothing for her, but I didn't think the fact she'd written her name on the gift Sam gave me really warranted a separate present.

And I wasn't getting them a couples present. They weren't a couple, not really. Not one that would last. I could tell that, I just wished Sam would get the message.

When we'd all opened our loot and drunk our wine and Amelia had jumped up every three and a half minutes to check on the turkey, which wasn't doing much at the moment, I finally got my shower. That felt better. I left my hair down, carefully arranging my blonde curls so they didn't look too messy, and put on my new dress; it was coral with a pattern of white birds all over it. It was summery and lovely and I felt much better wearing it.

At least until Pam knocked at the door.

I went to answer it with Amelia, who was as excited as if Santa himself had turned up. "Oh, my goodness! I'm so pleased you could come, Pam!"

"Yes," Pam said. "Well, you did invite me."

"Yeah, but you know…it's still great you're here."

Pam looked at her coolly. "I brought this," she said, holding out the world's smallest Christmas pudding. The kind that was really designed for one person. Pretty sure I'd seen it sticking out of a gift basket that had been sitting on Belinda's desk at one point, so now doubt it was some corporate gift Pam had been sent.

"I thought we could have this, after the turkey," Pam said. I waited for Amelia to say something about the pavlova, but she didn't. She nodded and said "Yeah, super. We'll have it with custard." She totally missed me mouthing "What custard? What custard?" at her, because she was too busy smiling at Pam.

So now, we needed custard.

"You want a drink?" Amelia asked Pam, as she shut the door and motioned for her to walk into the house.

"That would be lovely," Pam said. And then Jason came out of the living room. "Who're you?" he asked Pam.

"Pam."

"Jeez. You're a Pom," Jason informed her. Because, after all, my boss might not be aware that she's English. So it would be a great idea to tell her that. Idiot.

"Really?" Pam said dryly.

"Sorry," I apologised. "That's my brother. Jason."

Pam held out her hand to Jason, who had to do some complicated manoeuvring with the bottle of beer and the Christmas mince pie he was holding, before he could take it to shake. I idly wondered where he'd snaffled the pie from, but didn't think too much of it.

That is, until Jannalynn bailed me up on my way to the kitchen. "Your brother," she started, in a way that suggested Jason was my total responsibility. "Helped himself to the mince pies I made. And there's only like, a dozen, so tell him to lay off. I need some left for the trip."

"Trip?"

"Me and Sam are leaving after lunch to go up North to my parent's holiday place at Mangawhai Heads."

"Oh." That was news to me. When I'd last spoken to Sam, he'd been all keen on the whole dinner on the beach thing on Christmas…no. No, actually when I thought about it, he'd been a bit shifty and non-committal the last time we'd spoken. The first time he'd been enthusiastic, sure, but the last time, not so much.

I should have realised. Jannalynn would want to take him away from his friends.

Well, fine she could take Sam, and take her stupid mince pies, and just bugger off. What did I care?

"So just tell him, OK?" Jannalynn said, before turning on her heel and marching back to the living room.

I followed her in there, but then found the room split into couples. Well, sort of couples because one of them was Amelia and Pam who were laughing and joking and looking thick as thieves. OK, so when Kennedy goes on maternity leave, which is bound to be happening soon, then I can bet who'll be doing her job.

It felt bad being quite that bitchy on Christmas day. Especially about Amelia, who was, supposedly, my friend. But I was a little grumpy.

I went out to the deck to look at the sea. That might make me feel better. Jason was already out there, talking on his cellphone. I went to the opposite end of the deck, and tried to see the sea and pretended I couldn't hear Jason talking.

"Yeah. I don't think I'll be here long, eh?" he said. Great, so he was the only one who'd really come to spend time with me and even he didn't want to be here.

He said goodbye and walked over to me. "There's not much happening, eh?"

"What d'you mean? There were presents…and wine…and, stuff."

"Yeah, but now it's all just…talking and shit. You know, Christmas isn't the same without kids around, getting all excited and stuff."

"You said you hated Michele's nieces and nephews!"

"Nah! I don't hate them, that'd be wrong. It's just…you know, they're kids. They get excited. It's kind of nice, really."

"Well, you've changed your tune," I grumbled.

Jason shrugged. "There just isn't anything to _do_." He sighed heavily. I kind of wished I'd bought him a soccer ball instead of a Bunnings voucher, and then I could have sent him to run around in the back garden. I was coming to appreciate the reason Mum and Dad had always bought Jason sports equipment for Christmas.

"Well…you could walk to the dairy, buy some custard for me."

"You haven't got any custard? That's pretty stink planning, Sook."

"Yeah…well. Anyway, off you go."

"OK, but I'm going to drive. I can't be arsed walking."

"Whatever!" Sometimes it just wasn't worth arguing with Jason. He walked off the deck and back into the house, and I wondered if I should follow, but I was still faced with the problem of being the odd person out in the living room.

So I stayed put and hoped it would get better when Jason got back. I'd go back inside and we'd all have a good chat before lunch and Jason wouldn't be bored and I wouldn't feel like I wasn't even wanted in my own house.

Amelia popped her head out the door. "We got any more wine?"

God, I hoped Jason hadn't helped himself to that too. "No…what happened to the stuff you got?" I was fairly sure that getting the wine had been part of Amelia's list of chores.

"We drank that bottle," Amelia huffed. "And Pam wants another drink."

"You only got one bottle?"

Amelia shrugged. "Dad said he needed the rest of it." Then she turned and went back inside, without inquiring whether I might join them. Perhaps I could point out the different between your father and a supermarket to her. But I didn't. I went back to admiring the view from the deck, or pretending I was admiring it anyway.

And then some poncey red car I didn't recognise pulled into the driveway. Who the hell would that be?

Then it dawned on me. One of Jannalynn's brothers. Of course, her payback for Jason eating her food would be to invite one of the gazillion brothers she seemed to have, and let them loose on our lunch.

So that pudding of Pam's really wasn't going to cut it now.

I walked back through the living room, and into the kitchen. I wasn't sure whether I was actually going to stand over our Christmas lunch with a fork and defend it from the ravening hordes that Jannalynn was, probably right at that moment, letting into the house, but I felt like I should be in there. You know, in case.

I mean, I wasn't going to fight one of Jannalynn's brothers to death over the pavlova, or anything. But I should check it out all the same.

As I walked through the living room I asked Amelia if she'd checked on the turkey, recently. "No," she said, without turning away from Pam. Boy, rude much? It was nice she was getting on with the boss, but, honestly, I think she needed to tone it down a bit.

I took up my position in the kitchen, and checked on the turkey. It seemed to be cooking. I set about trying to fit the potatoes and kumara I'd peeled the night before in the tray around it. I wasn't going to get much in that way. I tried adjusting the shelf that the roasting tray with the turkey in it was on, hoping I could get another level in the oven. If I moved it up, I could, but then it might burn. So I went to the pantry to get out the tin-foil so I could cover it.

When I shut the door Eric Northman was standing in the kitchen with me.

No.

Nooo.

What?

"Um…you want these where?" Eric said, pushing a box towards me.

"I don't…" I looked over my other shoulder, hoping for back-up. There wasn't any. Or rather, there wasn't until Pam burst into the kitchen.

"Oh, thank God you're here, Eric!" She peered in the box. "I love you, Eric, in an entirely platonic but desperate to get slightly tipsier than I am now, way. Great that you're here." With that she lifted two bottles out of the box and left the kitchen. And Eric. And me in the kitchen with Eric.

Now he'd made his delivery, he'd go. Wouldn't he?

"So, I didn't realise," he said. "That it was here. That Pam was here. With you. She said it was a friend's place."

"Oh, um…" I wasn't sure what to say to that. I turned away from Eric and opened up the oven again, and tore off some tin-foil and covered the turkey.

"But I guess…well. Thanks for inviting me." Eric made it sound as though his mother had told him to say that to me.

"Oh, it's no problem," I said, feeling a bit backed into a corner. I mean it was one thing to invite Pam, but then for her to invite Eric…it was getting a bit out of hand.

What was happening to my nice quiet day with my friends?

I moved the turkey and managed to get some of the vegetables in, all under Eric's watchful gaze. He put the box on the kitchen bench and just kept standing there. "The others are in the living room," I said to him, but he kept hovering. I realised he probably wanted a drink.

"Glasses are up there," I said, as I shut the oven door.

"Up?"

"Wine glasses, are…oh, no, never mind…" I went to reach for one for Eric, at the same time as he finally twigged what I was on about and he went to push past me to reach the cupboard.

Now our kitchen wasn't the biggest. It's kind of on the long and narrow side. Mum'd spent years complaining that she couldn't swing a cat in here.

I'd never tried the cat thing, but I could now vouch for the fact that you couldn't comfortably get me and Eric in the space. Not when the drawer on the counter on the opposite side had been left open. So we ended up, once again, stuck together.

Probably I should have stepped back. I definitely should have paid a little more attention to the quiet beep I heard, but, in my defence, I was just too busy trying to think about getting lunch cooked properly.

No, don't tell me it's a stink defence. I think I kind of know. But I'm sticking with it.

"Don't worry, I'll get it," I said, but it did no good, as Eric just reached past me and pulled out two glasses. "You want some?" he asked.

"Um…OK. But don't get me drunk or anything." Eric gave me a funny look, but poured me a glass of something white anyway, and then passed it to me. I took a sip and wondered what to do next.

Did I have to make small talk with him?

We stood there awkwardly for a while, sipping our wine, and then I said. "I guess you should go and see Pam, seeing as how you're her guest."

"Oh, right. OK." He turned and walked out of the kitchen. I heard voices in the hall, and then Jason came in, carrying a carton of custard which he held out to me, because, obviously, putting it in the fridge himself was too much trouble.

"You know there's some Australian guy here?" Jason asked me.

"Yeah."

"Who the hell invited him?" Jason frowned in puzzlement, like inviting an Australian into your house was up there with inviting in a serial killer. I mean, I didn't think Eric was quite _that_ bad.

"I dunno. He's a friend of Pam's."

"Boyfriend?"

"Well…I just don't know." I'd thought they were an item, but now I wasn't that sure. Apart from that brief moment when Pam had been happy to see the wine, more than she'd been happy to see Eric himself, she'd ignored Eric completely.

I almost felt a little sorry for him.

"Well, I dunno," Jason said, opening the fridge and pulling out one of the beers he'd stashed in there. Because of course he could open the fridge for that. "Will we have to throw a shrimp on the barbie, for him?"

The last part was said in a really terrible imitation of an Australian accent. Eric sounded _nothing_ like that.

He still looked a bit taken aback when he walked in behind Jason and caught the tail end of the conversation. Jason turned around and realised Eric was behind him.

Now, you can say a lot of things about my brother, but that he understands the importance of tact is simply not one of them. "I was just saying, you'll want a shrimp on the barbie, eh Eric?"

At least he'd dropped the accent. I think.

Eric just stared Jason down. "No," he said, which probably wasn't the response Jason had expected, when he'd been going for matey and jokey. At least I hoped he had. It was either that or he'd been going for xenophobic and vaguely insulting. Mostly I liked to think the best of my brother.

But Eric clearly didn't think much of Jason at all. And now they were just standing there, staring at each other, which was just _awesome_ when they were both between me and the door to the hall.

A person could drown in testosterone just standing around here.

"I might just, um…" Yeah, I had no clue what I could do. "Go and talk to Amelia about timings…" That sounded suitably vague, and yet, completely integral to the smooth running of our Christmas lunch.

Both men pretty much ignored me and I was forced to squeeze past Eric again. Half-way past him, I realised I wasn't holding my wine glass. I debated internally for a second about how much I really wanted that wine.

It was actually bloody nice. Whatever else was wrong with him, Eric did have good taste in wine.

I shuffled back to where I'd left it, and then, with my glass in hand, shuffled back past Eric. Jason was now trying to ignore him and was poking around looking for more food. Possibly that was going to be the end of Jannalynn's mince pies, but I didn't give a stuff, really.

I just wanted to get out of the kitchen.

The living room was still occupied by Pam and Amelia. I didn't know where Sam and Jannalynn had gone. I probably didn't want to know.

"I think the turkey's OK," I said, by way of breaking into their conversation.

"Turkey?" Amelia asked, squinting at me in confusion. "Oh, yeah. Right." She thought for a moment and then she turned to look at Pam, who shrugged. "I don't know, I don't cook," Pam said.

"OK, well. Turkey's good. Now…lamb…" I mused, mostly to myself because Pam and Amelia weren't paying attention to me anyway.

I really needed Sam and Jannalynn for that one. Hmmm.

I walked to Sam's room and knocked on the door. "Sam?" I asked, tentatively.

"What?" Jannalynn yelled, pretty rudely.

"Um…are you guys still doing the lamb on the barbecue?"

"What?"

"The barbecue…" Jannalynn yanked the door open. "Oh, for God's sake, just don't go _on_ about it, Sookie. You're acting like you're the first person who ever did Christmas."

I bit my tongue. Literally. I literally had to bite it, so I didn't say something I would regret in front of Sam.

I took a deep breath and tried to smile. "I just thought, we should get the barbecue started."

"What're we barbecuing?" Jason asked. Yeah, I might have known this would interest him. I turned to look at him. Was that a new beer he was holding?

"Lamb," I replied.

"Yep," Sam confirmed, as he came out of his room. "Jannalynn cleaned the barbecue up yesterday." Sam smiled at Jannalynn, Jannalynn sneered at me. Lovely.

"Oh, great," I said.

"Yeah, it was rancid," she said. "I did the trick my dad taught me and just let all that shit burn off. Took ages."

"Um…did you, um…check the level in the gas bottle?" I was pretty sure it hadn't been all that full, and, when I'd suggested to Sam that he might like to give it a once-over before Christmas day, I was also pretty sure that I'd intended filling the bottle to be part of that process.

Jannalynn shrugged. "It'll be alright," she said.

We trudged through the house in single-file, Jannalynn leading the way. We walked back through the living room, where Eric was now sitting and contemplating the photos on the wall…oh God, if I'd known he was coming I might have hidden some of those ones…oh yeah, that one of me as a baby should really have come down.

But I got swept up in the movement out to the deck where we all stood around the barbecue while Jannalynn demonstrated that it was fine, and it still worked.

Yeah, it did. It switched on, briefly. And then it fizzled out. "Well, that fucking sucks," Jannalynn said.

"It bloody does," Jason agreed.

Sam frowned. "Um…we could just put the lamb on the oven?"

"Nope," I said, shaking my head. "I haven't got a frypan big enough, or enough frypans. And the oven itself is stuffed full of turkey at the moment. At least we still have that. And the ham." That was something. We weren't going to starve.

Jannalynn shrugged. "You guys should have filled that up," she said, and she flounced back into the house.

"I'll go and…um…maybe the garage back at the roundabout will have some gas bottles…" Sam said, not particularly decisively. He was staring at the direction Jannalynn had walked off in. And then he followed her, leaving the bottle where it was, still attached uselessly to the barbecue.

"I'm not going out again, eh?" Jason said. "I've had too much beer and no one is bloody feeding me. When's lunch?"

"Soon!" Jason actually looked a bit taken aback when I said that. OK, so I was just a little, teeny, tiny bit wound up.

All I had wanted was a nice Christmas day. Why was no one on my side?

"I was just asking, Sook! Jeez, no need to get your knickers in a twist about it all. I mean…I'm used to Michele's mum, and it's always eat at midday and stuff…and I said, that it's too early in the day…but you know…I got used to it…"

I didn't bother replying to that. I just left Jason on the deck and went back into the house. I shouldn't have bothered. Eric was lying in wait for me.

"You were cute," he said, smiling.

I wasn't in the mood for a smiling Eric.

"And now I'm what?" I asked.

Eric looked a bit stumped.

"Yeah, thought so. I don't know why you're here, Eric. But please don't rake through my family photos and think you know me." And then I did my best impersonation of Jannalynn and stalked off with my nose in the air.

Maybe I was a little harsh.

Although, really, Pam shouldn't have invited him. That was rude of her.

But punishing Eric was a bit much.

He _had_ hit my shoulder, though. In the meeting room the other day. And not apologised to me.

Not even once.

So…yeah. He could take it.

I went back to the kitchen and tried to think what to do. Jason followed me. I wished it was because he wanted to spend time with me on Christmas.

I think it was just because he wanted another beer.

When he'd got that, and while I was busy getting out things like the gravy boat and the salt and pepper shakers, he cleared his throat, like he had something important to say.

That'd be a first.

"So, that Eric guy? The Aussie? Who invited him again?"

"Pam."

"The English chick?" I almost wished Pam had heard that just to see what her reaction would be to being described that way. My money would have been on Jason losing a limb. Or two.

I nodded. Jason looked thoughtful, and sipped his beer. "You know, you probably shouldn't date an Aussie."

"What what-what?"

"You know. I just don't think it's a good idea, eh? They're a bit shifty."

"I just…I don't think you're allowed to lump them all together, Jason. Probably some of them are quite…you know…alright. And I have no intention of dating Eric Northman." That was a patently ridiculous idea.

"Yeah, nah. Nah, Dad always reckoned, eh? That they were all a bit fuckin' up themselves. Think they're all shit-hot and stuff. And they're not. Just because it's bloody hot, and they're better at cricket and shit. I mean, we've got the All Blacks."

"Didn't they just get beaten by the English?" I hadn't heard Amelia come in, but, obviously, she'd just popped in for more wine because she was in and out again before Jason could reply.

"Yeah, but nah…that was…well that was once, and it was just unlucky for us…or lucky for them…" Jason hadn't realised he'd lost his audience and Amelia had gone again. Or perhaps he didn't care. "But just be careful, eh?" he said, and then he wandered off again.

Right, yep, fine. I'd carry on. I looked through the oven door. Turkey seemed alright. I poured myself another glass of wine.

Maybe I could get a few things ready for the dessert? I got the carton of custard out of the fridge and ignored the fact I could hear Jason's cellphone conversation from where he was standing out by the front door. "Yeah, I know, babe," he said. "I don't think I'll be much longer, eh? But it's just all sitting around at the moment…" OK, so he didn't want to be here. But he'd invited himself, so he could lump it.

I opened the custard, and then bent down to look for a microwave jug to put it in, and when I whirled around and stood up I collided with Jannalynn.

The good thing for Jannalynn was that she jumped out of the way. The bad thing for me was that I didn't, and I ended up with custard spilt all down the front of my dress.

"Watch out!" Jannalynn said, way too late to make a difference, and like it was totally my fault. I wasn't the one sneaking into the kitchen.

"Right, yeah." I put the custard down and went to get cleaned up. The bathroom mirror revealed the full extent of the custard explosion, it wasn't pretty.

I dabbed at it with a clean flannel, and then realised that it had gone all down the front of my dress and into my bra. I unzipped the dress and pulled it off and then unhooked my bra, glancing at the bathroom door as I did so. Yep, my robe was still hanging up there, so at least I could decently get back to my bedroom to find more clothes.

I turned back to the task of cleaning off the custard. And the door opened. And Eric just stood there. And so did I, because that wasn't what I expected and everyone knew the lock was dodgy and that you couldn't just bust in here, and even Jason knew that because I couldn't remember when it wasn't kind of broken, and I often wondered if Dad had done it himself because he didn't trust Jason not to lock himself in here for the hell of it.

And then I realised what I was doing. "Stop looking," I said, putting my arms across my chest.

"I really don't want to," Eric said. "But if you insist." He started to close the door.

"And say sorry!"

He opened the door again. "I'm not sorry, Sookie." And then he was gone and I was left spluttering a little.

God he was _rude_. And obnoxious. Definitely obnoxious.

Maybe Jason was right about Australians?

And yet…why did that kind of directness seem infinitely better than all of Alcide's stupid codes?

I finished wiping off the custard and put on my robe before leaving the bathroom. I walked down the hall to my bedroom and tried the doorhandle…only it was locked.

Well that was weird. And like, typical for my luck.

The bathroom door lock wasn't working and the one on my bedroom was working too well.

I was about to call Jason to come down and see if he could bust it open when I heard the first moan.

What? Who the hell was in there? And what were they doing? And why did it sound like Pam?

Oh no. This was why Pam had phoned Eric to come over. She was having some kind of weird friends with benefits relationship with him and they'd decided to hook up. In my house.

In my bedroom.

On…my bed?

It was like being a bear and knowing that Goldilocks was doing something unspeakable in…or on…or even just near, your stuff and not being able to do anything about it.

It really sucked.

"Um…guys? Hello? Can I just, um…you know, that's my room," I called through the door. I'm not sure they heard me. What the hell was Eric doing to Pam?

"What's going on?" Eric asked, and I whirled around. Yeah, that was him…so who was…

No. No, oh no.

He wouldn't.

"I just…someone's in my room…" I said, feeling a bit lame about it. I mean, who gets locked out of their own room by sex fiends?

Eric frowned, but didn't say anything. Shit, maybe he was going to be pissed it was Pam in there. Maybe I needed to move out of the way in case there was a shouting match, or worse.

I had a really sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was not at all how Christmas was supposed to go. Bloody fucking Jason.

"What are you doing?" Jannalynn asked me.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Is that sex sounds? Who's having sex?" She looked a bit mad, like no one else was allowed to have sex in this house apart from her and Sam.

Well, at least it wasn't them in there.

"Is that your brother?" Jannalynn asked me.

I shrugged. It was pretty obvious what was going on. I just wanted to cry. What a horrible, horrible way to spend Christmas.

The toilet flushed behind us and Jason said "What've I done now?"

"Um…nothing…" I said, because he hadn't. Other than the fact he'd started on yet another beer, it looked like he was behaving himself.

So head count, then. I was here, Eric was here, Jannalynn was here, Sam was…well, not far away because Jannalynn was here, and Jason was here.

You never think of the obvious suspect first, do you?

I pushed past Eric and banged on the door. "Open up, Amelia! You've got your own fucking room. Go and use that one!"

There was some murmuring and whispering behind the door. "Get out!" I tried again. More murmuring, a little louder.

"Pamela!" Eric yelled. Wow, so he got to use her full name.

The door opened a little and Amelia stood there, looking very dishevelled but, thankfully, mostly fully dressed. "Sorry!" she said, not really sounding sorry at all. "I was giving Pam the tour."

"Of what?"

"I'm sure you can figure it out, Sookie," Pam murmured, as she passed me.

The pair of them drifted down the hall to Amelia's room and the rest of our group dispersed. Well, apart from Eric who was still standing next to me.

"That was very rude of Pam," he said.

"Yep," I agreed, blinking back the tears that had been building up from the sheer frustration I was feeling. "But I'm going to blame Amelia. After all, she can't bloody fire me."

I looked at Eric and, to my surprise, he burst out laughing. And I joined in. Well, sometimes you just have to, don't you?

"I've got to get some clothes on," I said, and I half-expected Eric to say something about that, but he didn't. So I went into my room and shut the door.

It was nice to be somewhere by myself for a bit. It was one thing to plan for a big celebration, but another to find yourself with a house full of people. Some of them random strangers.

Although at that point in time I liked Eric more than I liked Amelia. And Jannalynn. Possibly Jason, even. After all, staring at my boobs wasn't quite as bad as telling me who I could date.

Not that I wanted to date Eric. Not that I was ever going to date Eric.

But Jason still needed to butt out of my life.

I found a clean bra, and my navy shorts and old pink tank-top. There didn't seem to be a lot of point to dressing up now.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail, thankful that it had at least escaped the custard, and steeled myself to go back out and face my guests.

I took a big deep breath…and then I sat back down on my bed and stared at the wall. Remembered what had happened just before. Stood up and looked back down at my bed for obvious signs of befoulment. Apart from the fact the duvet was a bit creased and the old afghan Gran had made me when I was little was rucked up, it looked OK.

I decided to risk it and sat back down again.

I was going to go out there, I really was.

But not right now. At that moment I was having me time.

That wasn't a bad thing, right?

And then there was a knock on my bedroom door. I almost didn't open it. If it was Amelia wanting to apologise, I really didn't want to know. It was just too soon.

The knocking kept going though, even when I tried to ignore it. Fine, if Amelia really wanted to grovel, I could be polite, but I wasn't going to forgive her right away. She could sit and stew for a bit.

But, of course, I wasn't uppermost in Amelia's thoughts about now, and it wasn't her at the door. It was Eric, holding the glass of wine I'd abandoned when I'd had to clean up the custard all over myself.

"You look like you could use a drink," he said, and I didn't think it was worth trying to disagree. I took the proffered glass, and then took a sip. Eric took a sip of his own wine and stood there watching me.

"So this is your room?" Eric asked me.

"Uh-huh."

He looked around, interested. Or pretending to be interested, anyway. There wasn't that much to see, it was just a bedroom.

And then he stepped in, and sat down in the chair beside my bed.

Oh. So we were starting our own party in here, then? Great. Just great. I mean, sure, Eric was higher up my list of people who didn't piss me off than some of the people who were here, but that didn't mean I wanted to be responsible for him.

He was Pam's guest, not mine.

Which was weird, because she didn't live here. But she could still chat to him, couldn't she?

I guess it's hard to chat when you're trying to have sex on someone else's bed.

Euw. I checked my afghan again. It still looked OK. I hoped it had survived its ordeal.

"That's a fucking ugly blanket," Eric commented, following my gaze.

"It's an afghan. My Gran made it."

"You can tell." I glared at Eric, but I think it washed over him. "You've been here a while," he said, and I chose to ignore that remark. I didn't need to go into how my bedroom still looked like it belonged to a teenage girl.

I drank some more of my wine and went back to staring at the wall. The wine was nice and, maybe if I ignored him for long enough, then the person who'd brought it to me would bugger off.

Instead he surprised me by landing on the bed next to me. Without warning I suddenly bounced up in the air. It occurred to me that I was probably glad that it wasn't Eric in here with Pam because my poor bed might not have survived.

He was pretty large, Eric. And kind of imposing. And right in my personal space.

He reached out a hand and I wondered for a moment if he was going to put it behind my head, and maybe try and kiss me…or something. It wasn't that I wanted him to kiss me; it was just that it seemed plausible, in that moment, with the fact he was leaning towards me, and everything.

But instead he poked at one of my new earrings. "I like that," he said.

I liked it when his hand brushed my skin…and boy, maybe stupid Amelia was right and I did need a bloke. If I was enjoying this encounter with the person who'd thumped me in the meeting room a couple of days ago something was seriously wrong.

"What? Oh, they're my pressie from Amelia. They're tuis. The earrings…silver tuis."

"A what-ee?" Oh yeah, Australian.

"Bird. The one with the white pom-pom at its throat…hang on." I got up and walked to the window and opened it wider and then leaned out slightly…yep, you could hear them. "Come over here," I said to Eric and he followed me to my perch. "See if you listen, they're down there…in that pohutakawa tree three doors down."

Eric stood there, and listened for a bit. "That?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I thought that was a phone…or a car alarm."

"Well, they're good at imitating things."

"They're very loud and irritating."

"I hear the same thing about Australians." Eric just raised his eyebrows at that one.

I sighed. He didn't get it. I guess he just wasn't used to them. "To me they mean summer and happiness," I said. "You know, they're all excited because the pohutakawa blossoms are so tasty, and…just, yeah. I remember them. From when I was little. They've always been here. Like me." I shrugged and had some more wine.

Eric looked like he was about to say something. Certainly he leaned a bit closer to me, but then Jason burst in.

"What?" I asked. This was _my_ room, why was everyone trying to come in here uninvited?

"Nothing," Jason said, taking a mouthful of beer. Yeah, it was something. "Hey, Eric," he said, after a pause. "You know how you blokes put all those refugees in those camps? The ones with the big-arse fuck-off walls?"

Eric regarded Jason coolly. Probably he hadn't been expecting much of a political debate with him. Great, that was all I needed. Jason suddenly getting a conscience and deciding to worry about refugees. In Australia. I'm sure the ones in Auckland would have much rather he decided to care by giving them his old toaster or something, rather than by picking a fight with a passing Australian. And being Jason, he probably had his facts wrong anyway.

"And…?" Eric asked.

"Just pretend there's one of those around my sister." Jason thought about that. "A fence, not a refugee. Just…yeah. No." Jason nodded to himself.

Eric looked a little perplexed. "But, what if I see her topless?"

"What?"

"Topless."

Jason looked from Eric to me. "He walked in on me. In the bathroom. Before. I was wiping off custard," I explained.

OK, so it sounded like a really bad porno movie, but it wasn't. It was an honest mistake on Eric's part.

I hoped.

"Jesus, Eric. Don't perv at her, either."

Eric shrugged. "But she has very nice boobs."

Jason held up a hand. "Oh, mate! That's my _sister_. I don't fucking want to know. Keep your thoughts to yourself, OK?" He didn't wait for a reply to that, but walked off muttering to himself.

"He's an interesting guy. Your brother," Eric said.

"Um…that's one way of putting it. Sorry about him. I think he's just bored. And hungry. Oh, crap! I'd better check on lunch." The poor turkey had been all but abandoned by Amelia, as far as I could tell.

I hustled into the hallway and was heading to the kitchen when I heard Sam and Jannalynn talking in Sam's room. Now, it's rude to eavesdrop. But it wasn't my fault. The door was open.

And they were talking about me.

"I can't imagine he'd be into her," Jannalynn said. "I think he wanted to hook up with that boss woman."

Sam said something I didn't catch, and then Jannalynn snorted. "Yeah, but you can see she's all starry-eyed over him."

Well, that patently wasn't true.

I started to walk past their room when I nearly collided with Sam who was coming out. "Oh, hey," he said.

"Just going to check on lunch," I replied. "It can't be too much longer."

"OK." I walked on, but Sam followed me. "Uh, you know Eric?" he asked.

"Barely." I walked through the door of the kitchen. "I mean…he's Pam's friend." I had not, under any circumstances, engineered today so I could spend time with my crush. After all, I didn't have a crush on him. Sure, Belinda could wax lyrical about how handsome he was, and how she thought he looked like a model, and speculate on just how good his abs were, but Belinda didn't get out much.

And when she did, she drank too much and didn't make it to work the next day.

No, I was totally immune to Eric Northman's charms. Sure, I could see, objectively, that his dark blue eyes were very nice, and his blond hair was styled so it didn't look at all like he had actually styled it, and he had lovely hands….but none of that was going to make me throw myself at his feet in the hope he'd have sex with me.

I had a little more pride than that.

Plus he was still rude, and pushy, and thought he knew everything and just plain old Australian.

Nope, never gonna happen.

"Well, I just…he might have the wrong idea, Sookie." Sam shrugged and looked concerned.

"What idea?" I wished Sam would just spill it.

"I think he thinks this is a set-up…you know. Pam gets Amelia and he gets…" Sam stopped and looked at his feet. "You," he said finally.

"Me? What? No! Amelia wouldn't set me up…I mean, OK. She did. She wanted me to screw Alcide because I said he looked nice in that green suit that time, but I don't think…" I stopped talking when I realised Eric was approaching. Shit, what had he heard? And, more importantly, why was he following me around.

Sam gave Eric a glare that I didn't appreciate any more than I liked Jason telling me I couldn't date a man I didn't want to date, and then walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with Eric.

"Hey, can you go and get Jason?" I asked him.

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. Look, I know he's a pain in the bum, but I might get him to carve the turkey. It'll give him something to do and he'll stop annoying you."

"I don't think…OK. Fine," Eric huffed and he walked off.

I walked over to the oven which seemed remarkably cool. And dark. Had I turned the light off before?

Could you on this oven?

I pulled the door open and wasn't hit with a burst of warm air and the smell of cooked food. Instead I was confronted with a naked turkey which couldn't, in any sense of the word, be described as cooked.

What the hell had happened?

At first I thought Jannalynn had done it just to sabotage me, but then I realised. The beep. The beep that was the oven being turned off. I remembered the fucking beep I'd heard when Eric pushed in between me and the oven to get the glass.

I slammed the oven door shut and threw the oven gloves on the kitchen bench. Eric walked back in saying "I couldn't find…" just in time to hear me shout "Fuck, shit, piss, wank, bugger, bollocks…poo!"

"Well," he said. "That's a lovely greeting, Sookie."

"Oh shut up, you patronising Australian wanker!" Eric looked a little bit taken aback at that. Good.

I'd had a crappy day so far. Nothing had gone according to plan, absolutely nothing. I was fucked off, and I was tired and I just wanted the Christmas day I'd promised myself. The relaxing one, where I drank wine with my friends and I wasn't stuck with a frigging uncooked turkey.

I was more than ready to have a go at someone by this point in the day. It was just unfortunate for Eric, that he was the closest person.

"It's your fault anyway!" I yelled at him.

"My fault?"

"Yes! The oven got switched off and it was your bum that did it!"

Eric frowned. "My bottom…?"

"Yes! It switched off the oven!"

"How do you know?"

"I heard the beep. I heard the beep when it got switched off!"

"Maybe it was one of those birds?" Of course he would try to blame the tuis.

"Maybe it was the bloody great big Australian who insisted on taking up all the room in the kitchen, or, at least, maybe it was his bum!"

"I'm sure I would know if it had turned it off, Sookie. I think what you'll find is that you have a faulty switch…or something. It must be too sensitive."

"You should try being a bit more sensitive, Eric." And with that, I left the kitchen.

Well, we still had the ham, I guessed. I had to go and break the bad news to Pam and Amelia, though. Amelia had been cooking it for Pam. Or she'd put it in the oven for Pam, anyway.

Only Jason was in the living room when I looked in there. "You alright?" I asked him. He was clutching a beer, again. I'd lost track now of how many of those he'd had.

"No," he said, morosely. "I'm fucking hacked off. Where is everyone? You're supposed to have chats and stuff, on Christmas. You know, people talk to each other. It's meant to be all friendly and shit. And I'm sitting here by my fucking self, Sookie. Where's the fun in that?"

Jason looked at me expectantly. "Look, why don't you find Eric and talk to him…let him have one of your beers or something."

Jason pulled a face. "He's fucking Australian." I hoped it was just my imagination, but I was almost positive that Jason slurred that last word. Bloody terrific.

"Oh, you'll live." I walked out and down the hall towards Amelia's room, ignoring the sound of Jannalynn saying, loudly, "I don't know why you care so much about her, Sam! You don't care that much about me…you don't even really want to go to my parents…"

I knocked on Amelia's door. "Amelia?"

"What?"

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

Amelia yanked open the door. I politely ignored the state of her hair, and the fact that she was now just wearing her dressing gown. "Look, I'm sorry about before, but we weren't really doing _anything_ in your room, you know? So you don't have to be all pissed off, OK?"

Oh, that seemed so long ago now. "Yeah, OK. Listen, the oven got turned off before…"

"What?"

"The oven…so the turkey isn't anywhere near cooked, and I know that you guys were waiting for it…" I trailed off.

"Oh. Right. No, we're good for the moment. We'll sort something out in a bit."

"Well, there's still the ham," I suggested.

"Yeah…whatever…" Amelia had lost interest in me; in the background I could hear Pam saying "I could show you my place?"

I left them to it.

I was at a bit of a loose end. No one wanted to actually do anything about getting lunch and time was ticking on. If we were going to sit down and eat the ham…and whatever else we had, I think there was a pasta salad Amelia had made, then we had to get on to that.

But everyone else had lost interest in Christmas now. Amelia and Pam were holed up in her room making out, Sam and Jannalynn were holed up in his room arguing, I'd yelled at Eric and he was probably pissed off with me, or maybe he'd left. Jason was moaning about stuff and drinking beer and moaning some more and not actually doing anything to make it better for himself.

This wasn't at all how I'd thought Christmas was going to turn out. I had honestly thought it would be possible to have a nice time and actually enjoy the day.

I should have known better than to count on anyone else in the whole frigging world to see it my way.

I drifted back towards the kitchen, but Jannalynn was in there, banging away and muttering to herself. I assumed she was getting the ham out and ready to serve, so I thought I might leave her to it. Instead I went downstairs to the rumpus room under the house, and sat on the old couch that smelt musty and had big rips in the fabric from where our pet cats had clawed it, and I looked at the exercise bike that hadn't been used in so long it had probably rusted.

And that just summed up my mood really.

I half expected that they might forget to call me for lunch, and I was wondering if I should go up and investigate, when Sam came down the stairs.

"Hey, um…just wanted to let you know that, um…we're off…" he said, mostly looking at the floor.

"Off? Off where?"

"Oh, yeah. Well…you know, Jannalynn wants to get up to her parent's place…and it's a drive, and stuff. And we leave now, we can make the dinner her mum is doing….I think her brothers are going to be there…so, um, yeah…you know."

Well I knew now. Sam wanted to bail on me. _Thanks Sam for dumping me, one of your oldest friends, for your girlfriend and her demands. Yeah, that's right, run off up North. I don't care!_

I thought it. But it wasn't really true. I did care, unfortunately. And somehow Sam coming over and giving me a hug and saying, with cheerfulness that was a little forced, "Enjoy the rest of your Christmas, Sookie!" just made it worse.

I watched him go back up the stairs, and then I waited until I thought he and Jannalynn might have left. There were voices in the hall, and the front door slammed. The coast seemed clear. Maybe I could try to get everyone else to join me in eating the ham?

Amelia was standing at the top of the stairs, holding the platter with her pavlova on it. "We need to have some lunch first," I said to her. "Before the dessert." Maybe Amelia thought she'd missed out on first course while she and Pam were holed up in her room?

"Oh, no. I think we're gonna skip lunch…Pam says she doesn't really like feeling that full. So we're gonna go back to her place and just have some champagne…and you know. Hang out a bit." Amelia gave me a wink, which was pretty bloody redundant because she and Pam had made it perfectly clear before now exactly what they were up to.

"Oh, OK. Fine." I knew I sounded pissed off with her, but I was really past the point of caring.

It washed over Amelia, anyway. "So, Bye! See you, later. Tomorrow, probably. Yeah, tomorrow." She paused, and then she gave me an almost pleading look. "It's Christmas, Sookie. I just wanted to have a nice time at Christmas...you know? Some fun. Don't be mad." Well I did know what she meant, and I was kind of mad, but I didn't say that. Instead I managed a sullen "S'OK," which seemed to pass muster with Amelia, as she waltzed on out the door.

"Thanks for looking after Eric," Pam said to me. "He could do with someone like you."

Looking after him? I wasn't looking after Eric for Pam or anyone else. I had just been lumbered with him. Thanks to bloody Pam.

I never had a chance to formulate a proper reply to that. "Bye, Sookie," Pam said, as she walked out the door behind Amelia.

"Bye," I said, weakly. There wasn't much else I could do.

Well, screw them. We still had the ham, and we'd enjoy it. Me and Jason. And Eric. Who I assumed was still here? No, he must have gone by now.

So it was Jason and me and that was OK. Yeah, we didn't have a lot of family, but we had each other, and we could make a good day out of it.

Except that then there was a knock at the front door. When I opened it, it was Michele.

"Where's Jase?" she asked.

"Oh…he's around. Come in!" I tried not to gush too much, but yay! She'd come to join us.

"I'm here!" Jason's voice said, as he came out.

"You all set?" Michele asked.

"Yep." Jason came over and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks, Sook. See you round."

"What? But we haven't eaten yet?"

"Yeah. 'chele's mum's got heaps, eh? I'll have something there." He walked to the front door and kissed Michele on the cheek. "I missed you, babe."

Well, as nice as it was to see Jason showing how much he liked Michele, I still couldn't believe he was leaving me.

"Have a good Christmas, Sook!" OK, he was leaving me.

He stepped out the door, and then turned around and stepped back in, "Hey, Eric, mate!" he called out.

Eric appeared out of the living room, and looked at Jason curiously. Jason gave him a cheery wave. "You're not a bad bloke, for an Aussie."

"OK." Eric said, smiling. Well that was just lovely, they were besties now. Nice that my brother was doing his best for trans-Tasman relationships.

Jason turned and walked back out the door again and, after Michele leaned back and yelled "Bye, Sookie," they were gone too.

Now it was just me and Eric.

How in the world did I get stuck with the Aussie?

"OK, let's go eat," I said to him, and he trailed after me to the kitchen. I opened up the fridge. Huh. They hadn't left the ham in there.

I opened up the pantry. Nope. And was it my imagination, or did we seem to be missing a few other things as well? Like the pudding Pam had brought over. And that pasta salad we had kicking around…and…

"Oh, bloody buggery fuck! Jannalynn stole all the food," I said.

"What?" Eric asked.

"The food. Our fucking food. Jannalynn pinched it all and took it away with them. Just because she got the ham and was waiting for us to pay her for it, doesn't mean she can just take it back. And all the other stuff. Little cow!"

I crossed my arms and frowned at the fridge as though it was to blame for not defending itself against Jannalynn.

"Well, there must be something to eat," Eric said, pushing in front of me to look.

"There isn't! There's isn't anything! All the Christmas food is either ruined, or uncooked, or gone, and I only shopped for Christmas!"

"Yes…but, surely…"

"Surely, nothing! Just butt out!"

Eric frowned at me. "But you wanted to have lunch, so we're having lunch. We just need to find…"

"You don't get it!" I shouted, well, almost screamed, at Eric. "You don't see that I just wanted to have a nice Christmas day and it got ruined by everyone and everything and now it'll never be nice. You don't see because you're just a bloody Australian and you lot are always making fun of us….and, and doing stuff like making spoof-ads about why you should invade us. It's not right. I don't want to be invaded by you!"

We. I should have said we. I meant we. We don't want to be invaded by them.

"Do you mean me personally, the Australian advertising industry, or all Australians?" Eric asked.

"Oh, all of the above. " Most of the fight had gone out of me now. It was a shitty Christmas, and I just had to deal with it.

"So, what do you want to do?" Eric said, looking concerned. I really wished he wouldn't bother.

"Just go, Eric."

"Back to Australia?"

"Whatever. Just leave here. I'll be…I just want to be alone." That was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

"I can't."

"Yes. You can, Eric. Just piss off!" I really didn't want him to see me lose it, so I was trying to keep it together. It would be easier if he left though. Sooner rather than later.

"No, I can't Sookie," Eric said, almost as though I was a child. "Because my car is blocked."

"What?" I walked out the front door and saw that yes, Jason's truck was still parked in the driveway, directly behind Eric's car.

Well that was bloody fantastic, wasn't it?

"OK, so just…take my car. Hang on." I walked to my bedroom, pulled my car keys out of my handbag, and walked back to the door again. "There you go."

"But…you want me to go?" Eric looked down at the keys I was holding out to him, and then up to my face.

"Yes! I want you to go. I have had a shit day, Eric. I couldn't get near the bathroom, I got stuck making the food, my room got used as Amelia's sex-room, everyone buggered off, and now, I haven't even got anything to eat! So yes, piss off. You might as well."

Eric sighed and took the keys off me. "So it's…?"

"Out on the road. Over there, see? The yellow one."

"The, uh…" Eric looked at me. "The Nissan Micra?"

"Yep." I crossed my arms and dared him to make a comment about it, but all he did was mutter, "It would be, wouldn't it," before he started down the stairs.

"Just push the seat back. Before you try to get in it," I called after him, and he kind of waved over his shoulder at me.

I decided I wasn't in the mood to stand and wave Eric off in my car, so I went back in, shutting the door behind me.

Now, I was in a really shit mood. There was only one thing that might make it better. I filled a glass of wine, right up to the top, and I went out on the deck, where I craned my neck while standing on tip-toe and tried to get my look at the sea.

It wasn't as comforting as it used to be. Which was just my fucking luck. Everything was wrong now. They'd all ruined Christmas for me and they'd spoiled my view too. Stupid friends and stupid family and stupid, bloody, annoyingly Australian Eric Northman.

Sinking deep into my funk I sat on a chair on the deck and sipped my wine while the sun started to sink down below the house behind me. In the distance I could hear some kids playing, nice for them, and the tuis were having a big long chat about something. I was glad they had each other to spend Christmas day with.

I was feeling kind of sorry for myself.

There were some car noises, but I didn't really register them. Then there was a knock on a door. No, hang on. That was our door. Huh?

Oh. I wondered if Amelia had forgotten her key, although I was surprised she was back this early. Or maybe it was Jason who, having been sobered up by Michele, was now here to collect his truck.

It was Eric. "Oh. Hello."

"I brought you dinner," he announced, holding up a brightly coloured bag of…

"Is that?"

"Yup. Well, I remembered. All stores open from midday on Christmas day."

"You brought me Southern Fried Chicken?"

"I brought us Southern Fried Chicken, Sookie. You said you had no food, and, well, I was still hoping to be your guest."

"But you hate Southern Fried Chicken. You made all those snide comments in the meeting, and everything."

"I don't hate it. I just…look, take the food, Sookie. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to eat."

I took the food from Eric's hands and went through to the kitchen. I pulled out some plates and took the whole lot out onto the deck. Eric followed, bringing two glasses of wine with him.

"I just don't get it," I said, as I took my first bit of the chicken. Oh my God, that was so good! I hadn't realised just how hungry I was. "I don't understand why you care so much about me getting Christmas dinner."

Eric put down the chicken breast he was holding and looked me in the eyes. "Well I don't think anyone should be alone on Christmas, Sookie." He went back to eating.

"Oh." And there it was. He'd guessed my secret, the thing I'd been trying to hide from even myself. The real reason I was so fixed on having this great Christmas here, with my flatmates. Because I knew that at the end of the day they all had their own lives, and I had nothing. And I didn't want to be alone at Christmas.

"But you barely know me," I said, when I'd finished the piece I was eating and gone in for more. The chips were good too; they added chicken seasoning to them.

"Oh no. I know lots about you, Sookie." Eric sounded pretty sure of himself.

"Like what?" I challenged. Ooh, I had a crispy bit. I loved the crispy bits.

"Like, the fact you've lived here a long time, because some of the photos on the wall have you as a toddler on this deck."

I shrugged, that wasn't news.

"Like, you're nice to animals; your photos have pets in them. Jason's don't."

I snorted at that one. Still, it wasn't that hard to work out.

"You like birds."

"My dress had birds on it."

"Your face lit up when you talked about the tuis."

"So I like tuis?"

Eric ate another chip. "Christmas means a lot to you."

"Christmas means a lot to everyone, Eric."

"Yeah, but very few people would brush off what Amelia did just to try to have a pleasant Christmas lunch."

"I didn't brush it off! I just…I mean the damage was done, and going on about it doesn't fix anything. I'm not Jannalynn. I'm not going to punish people who upset me."

"Exactly. You're not anything like Jannalynn, and you put up with her as well."

"To an extent."

"Because it's Christmas."

I sighed, and stared at the darkening trees in front of the deck. "My parents died. Just before Christmas. I was seventeen."

Eric didn't reply to that. He just nodded, and took a bite of chicken. We were quiet for a moment. I was trying not to think too hard about my parents, I always did at Christmas. It was still raw and painful and all I wanted was one bright, happy, noisy Christmas to drown out the sadness that always tinged the day for me. Just once.

After a while Eric broke the silence. "And," he added. "You like sunbathing topless."

"What?"

Eric nodded at my chest. "No tan lines."

"Oh. What? Oh." Damn him. He had seen my boobs, after all.

"Well, it's not like I sunbathe," I said. "Because that would be really dangerous in today's climate. With no ozone layer or anything."

"Well, no. Of course not, Sookie." Eric grinned at me.

"It's not a crime to not want a tan line."

"Nope."

"It _is_ a crime to perv at unsuspecting women in their own bathrooms."

"I'm pretty sure you flashed me, Sookie."

"Yeah. Blah, blah. Maybe Jason wasn't far wrong and you Aussies are all just bullshit artists.

"The fact that we're so great isn't bullshit."

"Hah! What's the fact that you're such big-headed wankers, then?"

"A vicious rumour perpetuated by jealous New Zealanders. But we forgive you, because we think you're cute." Eric nodded, like that was a real thing all Australians thought.

"Cute?"

"Yeah. Like the fact you're so proud of those movies, when you can't even pronounce them."

"What?"

"It's Lord of the Rings, Sookie. Not Lord of the Rungs."

"Oh, shut up and go back to Seednee."

Eric laughed at that, and put his plate on the deck next to him. "You know," I said. "I don't really know anything about you. Other than that you're Australian."

"My parents were from Norway. Does that make a difference?"

"Not one bloody iota. You're still an Aussie…but I just don't know anything about you. And you know about my tan lines." I put my own plate down and picked up a wet-wipe for my hands. That chicken had been really good.

"I could show you my tan lines?" Eric offered.

"Oh, um…tell me something about you first."

"Well, my name is Eric. I work in advertising. I was born in Australia…"

"Something I _don't_ know."

Eric stared at the railing of the deck. "My wife left me," he said quietly.

"Oh." I wasn't sure what to say that. Sorry was on the tip of my tongue, but it seemed too pat, and kind of ineffectual.

"Yeah. Last Christmas." Eric looked at me. "Yes. Like the song. Please don't serenade me with it again." I pulled a face at that, but he carried on. "I just…I came home from work, and all the Christmas decorations were missing and so was Karin." He shrugged. "I never even got to give her the present I'd bought her."

"What was it?"

"iPad. I'm not sad about that, because really, I've kind of enjoyed keeping it. But I suspect she wanted something else, and I think that just…well. We weren't suited. Pam actually introduced us. When I lived in London I worked at an agency with Pam and Karin was her friend. I think that's why she feels responsible for me, suggested I move here, and then…brought me to your place for Christmas."

"Oh. OK."

"I do apologise. For crashing your Christmas day. I was, um, well. The story Pam told me about what was happening. Let's just say it was quite different to what actually did."

"Yeah. You have to watch her. She used to work in advertising." Eric stopped frowning when I said that, and he smiled again. And that felt good. I was happy I could make him smile.

"I'm glad you're here," I added. Though the apology, which was about the first one I'd ever really had from Eric, had been nice, I wasn't annoyed. Not that he'd ended up here. Not now, anyway.

"I did wonder if you might prefer Alcide." Eric raised his eyebrows.

I snorted. "Nup. He's a bit of a muppet really." I shrugged. I'd never been all that interested in Alcide. He'd been Amelia's project.

"He is," Eric agreed. "A fucking muppet. I did not understand what you saw in him."

"Well I thought you were sleeping with Pam!"

"You did?"

"Yeah. When I overheard you…I dunno. It made sense at the time."

"I don't think it makes sense to Pam. I'm really not her type," Eric said, grinning.

"No. Well I get that now. After she tried to sleep with my flatmate in my bedroom, I really, really get that."

Eric laughed again. This was nice, chatting with him. I couldn't understand why he'd ever seemed so scary. "I thought you thought I was a bit of a muppet," I confessed.

"I'd never think that, Sookie."

"Not even when I doused you in water during that meeting?"

"I enjoyed the, uh, experience of sitting next to you in the end."

"Oh, God," I covered my face with my hands. "I can't believe I almost gave you a lapdance."

"Sookie," Eric said, softly, and I removed my hands and looked over at him. "It was the best almost-lapdance I've ever had."

And then he leaned closer, and closer, right over the arms of the chairs we were sitting on, until his face was only centimetres from mine. And then our lips touched, just lightly at first, and then Eric reached behind me and put his hand on the back of my head and pulled me closer to him, and I opened my mouth just a little.

He tasted of fried chicken, and wine and man. It was heavenly. I reached over and put my hand on his shoulder and tried to get a little closer, but the arms of the chairs were annoying.

Eric obviously thought the same thing as he got up and for a moment I was worried he might be leaving, but, instead, he knelt in front of me, and I opened my legs so he could get closer, and we resumed kissing.

It was still lovely, but in this position, with Eric's torso pressed right up against me, and his arms holding me against him, it started to feel, well, more sexual. I wasn't sure this was where I wanted it to go. Not just then, anyway.

It would be wrong to have sex with a man that bought you fried chicken just because you were lonely and it was Christmas Day.

I ignored the little voice in my head who was shouting "No! Not wrong! Quite right!" and pushed Eric gently on the shoulder as I pulled away from the kiss. He didn't protest.

"I want to show you something," I said, and I untangled myself from him and stood up. "If you come here, and stand next to me, you can see."

Eric did as I'd said. "See what?"

"The sea."

"You can?"

"Yeah. Stand on this side of me…and lean out a bit…and then stand on tip toes…"

"I think I can miss that step. Oh. Yeah. I can see."

"You can?" I looked over at him.

"Yep. Just. Between the Norfolk pines down there."

"Yes! That's it. Down there in Browns Bay." I sighed happily. Eric put his arm around me and I leaned against him. "I love this view," I said. Eric didn't comment. We just stayed like that for a while.

"You know," I said to him. "You should come here for New Year's. We're going to have a party. It's going to go off!" I was possibly over-selling it.

Eric leaned down to whisper in my ear. "What about you, Sookie? Do you go off?"

I giggled. "Well, you'll have to wait and see."

"I think I'd like to see that," Eric said, and he leaned down and kissed me again.

You know what? He bloody did too. But that's a whole other story. Maybe one day, I'll tell you that one too.

**The End**

Glossary –

Pohutakawa (po-hoo-ta-car-wah) – New Zealand native tree, which has red blossoms every December. Also known as the New Zealand Christmas tree.

Tui (too-ee) – New Zealand native bird with a distinctive white plume at its neck. Also known as the parson bird.

OE – overseas experience. It's common for New Zealander to spend a period of time overseas when they're young, often in the UK. Usually they combine work and travel so they can see a bit more of the world.

Pavlova – large meringue dessert invented in New Zealand, also popular in Australia.

Bunnings – large hardware and homewares stores.

Rimu (ree-moo) – New Zealand native tree, used for timber.

Kumara (koo-mah-rah) – a type of sweet potato common in New Zealand and first brought here by the Maori.

The Gruen Transfer TV show ads based on invade New Zealand – Link on my profile, or just Google 'Gruen Transfer Invade New Zealand'.

Sookie's earrings are the Boh Runga designed Tuis. Link on my profile if you want to have a nosey.

**Thanks for reading!**


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